LIBRARY   OF   THE 


University  of  California. 


C1RCULA  TING    BRA NC  fr 


Eeturn  In  4w*  weekf :  or  a  week  before  the  end  of  the  term, 


THE     RHINE. 


"DORN  where  blooms  the  Alpine  rose, 
*-*     Cradled  in  the  Boden  See— 
Forth  the  infant  river  flows, 

Leaping  on  in  childish  glee. 
Coming  to  a  riper  age, 

He  crowns  his  rocky  cup  with  wine, 
And  makes  a  gallant  pilgrimage 

To  many  a  ruined  tower  and  shrine. 


THE  RHINE; 

A    TOUR 

FROM    PARIS    TO     MAYENCE 


BY    THE    WAY    OF 


AIX-LA-CHAPELLE, 


WITH      AN      ACCOUNT      OP      ITS      LEGENDS,      ANTIQ- 
UITIES,   AND     IMPORTANT     HISTORIC 
CAL     EVENTS, 


BY    VICTOR    HU 

TRANSLATED     BY     D  »     M  ,     A  I  R  D  , 


SAN    FRANCISCO  : 
PAYOT,     UPHAM     &     CO. 

622     WASHINGTON     STREET. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER     I. 

FROM  PARIS  TO   FERTE-SOUS-JOUARRE. 

Dammartin:  its  Literature  and  Curiosities.  —  An  Accident, 
and  its  Result. — A  German  Wagon. — The  Pleasures  of 
Country  Traveling. — The  Philosophical  Hunchback  and 
Reasoning  Gendarme. — Meaux  and  its  Curiosities  .  .  X 

CHAPTER     II. 

MONTMIRAIL — MONTMORT — EPERNAY. 

Montmirail  Castle.  —  Vaux  Champs.  —  The  Rencontre,  and 
Reflections  Thereupon. —  Montmort  Castle. —  Made- 
moiselle Jeannette.  —  The  Churches  and  Curiosities  of 
Epernay. — Anecdote  of  Strozzi  and  Brisquet,  Henry  the 
Second's  Fool IX 

CHAPTER      III. 

CHALONS—  SAINTE  MENEHOULD — VARENNES. 

The  Reverie.— The  Arrest  of  Louis  the  Sixteenth.— The  Salu- 
tation and  its  Effects. — Notre  Dame  at  Chalons. — A»ti- 


viii  Contents. 


quarian  Forgetfulness. —  The  Inscription. — Watchman, 
Wife,  and  Gnome  Son.  —  Abbey  of  Notre  Dame  de 
1'Epine.  —  Storm.  —  Metz  Hotel.  —  Sleeping  Canary. — 
Host  and  Hostess. — Champagne,  and  the  Signification  of 
Champenois. — Madame  Sabliere  and  La  Fontaine  .  .  19 

CHAPTER    IV. 

FROM  VILLIERS-COTTERETS  TO  LA  FRONTIERS. 

The  Effects  of  Traveling. — The  Retrograde  Movement. — Re- 
flection.—The  Secret  of  Stars.— The  Inscription  "  I.  C." 
— The  Cathedral  where  King  Pepin  was  Crowned. — The 
Prisoner's  Sad  Rencontre.  —  Rheims.  —  Church  at  Me- 
zieres. — The  Effects  of  a  Bomb. — Sedan  and  its  Contents. 
— The  Transpiring  Events  at  Turenne's  Birth. — Conver- 
sation of  a  Sir  John  Falstaff  and  his  Better-Half  .  .  32 

CHAPTER     V. 

GIVET. 

Flemish  Architects.— Little  Civet.— The  Inscription.— Jose 
Gutierez. — The  Peasant  Girl 45 

CHAPTER     VI. 

THE   BANKS   OF     THE    MEUSE — DINANT — NAMUR. 

The  Lesse. — A  Flemish  Garden. — The  Mannequin. — The 
Tombstone.  —  Athletic  Demoiselles.  —  Signboards,  and 
their  Utility 5* 


Contents.  ix 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE   BANKS   OF  THE   MEUSE. — HUY. — LIEGE 

A  Chapel  of  the  Tenth  Century. — Iron  Works  of  Mr. 
Cockerill ;  their  Singular  Appearance. —  St.  Paul's  at 
Liege. — Palace  of  the  Ecclesiastical  Princes  of  Liege. 
— Significant  Decorations  of  a  Room  at  Liege  .  .  56 

CHAPTER    VIII 

THE  BANKS   OF  THE  VESDRE. — VERVIERS. 

Railways. — Miners  at  Work. — Louis  the  Fourteenth       .        .66 
CHAPTER      IX. 

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. — THE  TOMB   OF   CHARLEMAGNE. 

Legend  of  the  Wolf  and  Pine-Apple. — Carlo  Magno. — 
Barberousse. — The  Untombing  of  Charlemagne. — Ex- 
hibition of  Relics. — Arm-Chair  of  Charlemagne. — The 
Swiss  Guide. — Hotel  de  Ville,  the  Birthplace  of  Charle- 
magne   69 

CHAPTER     X. 

COLOGNE. — THE  BANKS  OF  THE  RHINE. — ANDERNACH. 

Duez.  —  Cathedral  of  Cologne.  —  The  Peasantry.  —  The 
Strolling  Musician. — Personifiers  of  the  Gods  Goulu, 
Gluton,  Goinfre,  and  Gouliaf. — Dome  of  the  Cathedral 
of  Cologne. — Epitaph. — Tomb  of  the  Three  Wise  Men 

A* 


Contents 


of  the  East.  — Destiny. -—The  Hotel  de  Ville.— -The 
Three  Bas-Reliefs.  —  The  Epic  Poet  of  Cologne.— 
Cologne  at  Night. — Time  and  its  Effects 


CHAPTER    XI. 

APROPOS  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  "  IBACH." 

Man's  Insignificancy. — The  House  Ibach. — Marie  de  Medicis, 
Richelieu,  and  Louis  the  Thirteenth  ....  103 

CHAPTER    XII. 

A  FEW  WORDS  RESPECTING  THE  WALDRAF  MUSEUM. 

Schleis  Kotten.— "  Stretching-Out-of-the-Hand  System,"  or, 

Traveling  Contingencies. — Recapitulation        .        .        .no 

CHAPTER     XIII. 

ANDERNACH. 

A  View  from  Andernach. — Village  of  Luttersdorf. — Cathe- 
dral.—  Its  Relics. —  Andernach  Castle.  —  Inscription. — 
The  Tomb  of  Iloche. — Gothic  Church  and  Inscription  .  118 

CHAPTER     XIV. 

THE  RHINE.* 

The  Rhine  at  Evening.— Contrast  of  the  Rhine  with  other 
Rivers. — The  First  People  who  tock  I  csscssion  of  the 


Contents.  xi 


Banks  of  the  Rhine. — Titus  and  the  Twenty-second 
Legion. — Mysterious  Populations  of  the  Rhine. — Civil- 
ization.— Pepin-le-Bref,  Charlemagne  and  Napoleon  .  124 

CHAPTER    XV. 

THE    MOUSE. 

Velmich. — Legend  of  the  Priest  and  the  Silver  Bell. — Giant's 
Tomb. — Explanation  of  the  Mouse. — The  Solitary  In- 
habitant of  the  Ruin 134 

CHAPTER     XVI. 

THE    MOUSE. 

Colossal   Profile. — The   Duchy  of  M.  de  Nassau. — Country 

Sports  ;  their  Punishment. — A  Mountebank     .        .        .  142 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

SAINT   GOAR. 

The  Cat ;  its  Interior. — Fabulous  Rock  of  Lurley. — The 
Swiss  Valley.— The  Fruit  Girl.— The  Reichenberg.— The 
Barber's  Village. — Legend. — The  Rheinfels. — Oberwesel. 
— French  Hussar. — A  German  Supper  ....  145 

CHAPTER     XVIII. 

BACHARACH. 

Furstemberg,  Sonnech,  and  Heimberg. — Europe. — A  Happy 

Little  World.— The  Cemetery 154 


xii  Contents. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 
"FIRE!   FIRE!" 

Lorch. — An  Incident. — Combat  of  the  Hydra  and  Dragon. 
—The  Hotel  P at  Lorch 157 

CHAPTER    XX. 

FROM  LORCH  TO  BINGEN. 

Traveling  on  Foot :  Its  Advantages  and  Pleasures.  —  The 
Strange  Recontre. — A  Dangerous  Spectator. — The  Ex- 
plication.— Actors  on  a  Holiday. — Marvelous  Facts,  and 
their  Connection  with  the  "  Holiday  of  a  Menagerie." 
— Furstemberg  Castle.  —  The  Three  Brothers,  Cadenet, 
Luynes,  and  Bradnes. — The  Three  Students. — Sublimity 
of  Nature. — Ruin. — The  Enigma. — Falkenburg  Castle. — 
The  Blooming  Group. — Stella. — Gantrum  and  Liba. — 
Mausethurm. — Hatto,  and  the  Legend  of  the  Rats  .  .  165 

CHAPTER     XXI. 

LEGEND  OF  THE    HANDSOME  PECOPIN    AND    THE    BEAU- 
TIFUL  BAULDOUR. 

The  Planet  Venus  and  the  Bird  Phoenix. — The  Difference 
Between  the  Ear  of  a  Young  Man  and  that  of  an  Old 
One. — The  Qualities  Essential  to  Different  Embassies. — 
Happy  Effect  of  a  Good  Thought.— The  Devil  is  Wrong 
in  being  a  Gourmand. — Amiable  Proposition  of  an  Old 
Sage.  —  The  Wandering  Christian.  —  The  Danger  to 
which  we  Expose  Ourselves  by  Getting  on  a  Strange 
Horse.— The  Return.— Bauldour 195 


Contents.  xiii 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

BINGEN. 

Houses  at  Bingen. — Paradise   Plain. — The    Klopp. — Mdlle. 

Bertin.— The  Sage 225 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 

MAYENCE. 

Cathedral;    its   Interior. — Henry  Frauenlob,  the  Tasso    of 
Mayence. — Market-Place 233 

CHAPTER     XXIV. 

FRANKFORT  ON  THE  MAINE. 

Jews  at  Frankfort. —  Slaughter-House. —  Roemer. —  Inhabit- 
ants of  the  Steeple 237 

CHAPTER    XXV. 

THE    RHINE 

Raft*  cm  the  Rhine. — Secret  Souvenirs. — Oberwerth       .        .  242 


THE    RHINE. 

CHAPTER      I. 

FROM   PARIS  TO  FERTE-SOUS-JOUARRE. 

Dammartin  :  its  Literature  and  Curiosities. — An  Accident,  and  its 
Result.  —  A  German  Wagon.  —  The  Pleasures  of  Country 
Traveling.  —  The  Philosophical  Hunchback  and  Reasoning 
Gendarme.  —  Meaux  and  its  Curiosities. 

ABOUT  two  days  ago  I  started  from  Paris. 
Pursuing  my  way  by  the  route  of  Meaux, 
leaving  St.  Denis  and  Montmorency  on  the  left, 
I  cast  my  eyes  upon  the  rising  ground  at  the 
bottom  of  the  plain,  but  a  turning  in  the  road 
soon  hid  it  from  my  sight.  On  long  excursions, 
I  have  a  peculiar  penchant  for  short  stages,  hate 
to  be  encumbered  with  luggage,  and  love  to  be 
alone  in  my  carriage  with  the  two  friends  of  my 
boyhood — Virgil  and  Tacitus. 

As  I  had  traveled  by  Soissons  a  few  years  ago, 
I  took  the  Chalons  road,  which,  owing  to  innova- 
tors, or,  as  they  style  themselves,  utilitarians, 
has  now  but  very  little  interest  left.  Nanteuil- 
le-Haudoin  boasts  no  longer  of  the  castle  built 
by  Francis  the  First ;  the  magnificent  manor  of 

the  Duke  of  Valois,   at   Villiers-Cotterets,    has 
1 


The  Rhine. 


been  converted  into  a  poor-house  ;  and  there,  as 
almost  everywhere,  sculpture  and  painting — the 
mind  of  by-gone  ages,  the  grace  of  the  sixteenth 
century — have  disappeared.  The  enormous  tower 
of  Dammartin,  from  which  Montmartre,  nine 
leagues  distant,  could  be  distinctly  seen,  has 
been  razed  to  the  ground.  Its  lizard  and  vertical 
form  gave  rise  to  the  proverb,  which  I  could 
never  well  understand  : 

"  //  est  comme  le  chdteau  de  Dammartin,  qui 
crtoe  de  rire"  l 

Since  it  has  been  deprived  of  its  old  bastille,  in 
which  the  Bishop  of  Meaux,  when  he  quarreled 
with  the  Count  of  Champagne,  took  refuge  with 
seven  of  his  followers,  Dammartin  has  ceased  to 
engender  proverbs.  It  is  now  only  remarkable 
for  literary  compositions  similar  to  this  note, 
which  I  copied  verbatim  from  a  book  lying  on  the 
table  of  an  auberge  : 

"Dammartin  (Seine -et-Marne)  is  a  small 
town,  situated  on  a  hill ;  lace  is  the  chief  ar- 
ticle of  manufacture.  Hotel:  Saint  e  Anne.  Cu- 
riosities: the  parish  church,  hall,  1600  inhabit- 
ants." 

The  short  space  of  time  which  those  tyrants  of 
diligences,  called  conducteurs,  allow  for  dinner, 
would  not  permit  me  to  ascertain  if  it  was  true 

1  He  is  like  Dammartin  Castle,  bursting  with  laughter. 


Pert  4 -sous-  Jouarre. 


that  the  sixteen  hundred  inhabitants  of  Dammar- 
tin  were  really  curiosities. 

In  the  most  lovely  weather,  and  on  the  finest 
road  in  the  world,  between  Claye  and  Meaux,  the 
wheel  of  my  vehicle  broke.  (I  am  one  who  al- 
ways continues  his  journey,  for,  if  the  carriage  re- 
nounce me,  I  abandon  the  carriage.)  At  that  in- 
stant a  small  diligence  passed,  which  was  that  of 
Touchard.  There  was  only  one  vacant  seat — I 
took  it,  and  in  ten  minutes  after  the  accident  I 
was  once  more  on  my  route,  perched  upon  the 
imperiale,  between  a  hunchback  and  a  gendarme. 

Behold  me  now  at  Fert6-sous-Jouarre,  a  pretty 
little  town  with  its  three  bridges,  its  old  mill 
supported  by  five  arches  in  the  middle  of  the 
river,  and  its  handsome  pavilion,  of  the  time  of 
Louis  the  Thirteenth,  which,  it  is  said,  belonged 
to  the  Duke  of  Saint-Simon,  and  is  now  in  the 
hands  of  a  grocer. 

If,  in  fact,  M.  de  Saint-Simon  did  possess  that 
old  habitation,  I  very  much  doubt  whether  his 
natal  mansion  of  Ferte-Vidame  ever  had  a  more 
lordly  and  stately  appearance,  or  was  better 
adapted  to  his  rank  of  Duke  and  Peer,  than  the 
charming  little  castle  of  Fert6-sous-Jouarre. 

In  traveling,  I  do  not  seek  for  incidents  ;  my 
desire  is  fresh  scenes,  which  excite  and  create 
ideas,  and  for  that  new  objects  suffice.  Besides, 
I  am  content  with  little.  If  I  see  trees,  the 


The  Rhine. 


greensward,  and  have  the  open  air,  with  a  road 
before  and  behind  me,  I  am  perfectly  satisfied. 
If  the  country  is  flat,  I  like  an  extended  horizon  ; 
if  it  be  mountainous,  I  like  the  landscapes,  and 
here  one  is  ever  presenting  itself  to  the  view. 
Before  me  is  a  charming  valley  ;  to  the  right  and 
left  the  strange  caprices  of  the  soil — huge  hills 
bearing  the  marks  of  husbandry,  and  squares, 
pleasing  to  the  sight ;  here  and  there  groups  of 
low  cottages,  whose  roofs  seem  to  touch  the 
gound ;  at  the  end  of  the  valley  a  long  line  of 
verdure,  with  a  current  of  water,  which  is  crossed 
by  a  little  stone  bridge,  partly  dismantled  by  age, 
that  serves  to  unite  the  two  highways.  When  I 
was  there,  a  wagon  crossed  it — an  enormous  Ger- 
man wagon,  swelled,  girt,  and  corded,  which  had 
the  appearance  of  the  belly  of  Gargantua,  drawn 
upon  four  wheels  by  eight  horses.  Before  me, 
near  the  opposite  hill,  and  shining  in  the  rays 
of  the  sun,  the  road  takes  its  course,  upon  which 
the  shadows  of  the  tall  trees  represent,  in  black, 
a  huge  comb  minus  several  teeth. 

Ah,  well !  the  large  trees,  the  shadow  of  a 
comb,  at  which,  perhaps,  you  are  laughing,  the 
wagon,  the  old  bridge,  the  low  cottages  —  create 
pleasure,  and  make  me  happy.  A  valley  such 
as  this,  with  a  brilliant  sun  above,  always  pleases 
me.  I  looked  around  and  enjoyed  the  scene,  but 
my  fellow  -  travelers  were  constantly  yawning. 


The  Gendarme  and  the  Hunchback.  J 

When  the  change  of  horses  takes  place,  every- 
thing amuses  me.  After  the  cracking  of  the 
whip,  the  noise  of  the  horses'  hoofs,  and  the 
jingling  of  the  harness,  we  stop  at  the  door  of 
an  auberge.  A  white  hen  is  seen  on  the  high- 
way— a  black  one  amongst  the  brambles  ;  a  har- 
row or  an  old  broken  wheel  in  a  corner ;  and 
children  in  the  height  of  mirth,  with  comely,  yet 
far  from  clean  faces,  playing  round  a  stack  of 
hay.  Above  my  head  is  suspended  Charles  the 
Fifth,  Joseph  the  Second,  or  Napoleon  —  great 
Emperors,  who  are  now  no  longer  fit  for  any- 
thing but  to  draw  custom  to  an  ale-house !  The 
inn  is  full  of  voices :  upon  the  step  of  the  door 
the  grooms  and  the  kitchen-maids  are  cracking 
jokes  and  composing  idyls,  while  the  under- 
strapper is  drawing  water.  Profiting  by  my  high 
position  upon  the  imperiale,  I  listened  to  the 
conversation  of  the  hunchback  and  the  gen- 
darme, then  admired  the  little  place,  with  all  its 
deformities  and  beauties. 

Besides,  my  gendarme  and  hunchback  were 
philosophers.  There  was  no  pride  in  them. 
They  chatted  familiarly  together ;  the  former, 
without  disdaining  the  hunchback  —  the  latter, 
without  despising  the  gendarme.  The  hunch- 
back paid  a  tax  of  six  francs  to  Jouarre,  the  an- 
cient Jovis  ara,  which  he  explained  to  the  gen- 
darme ;  and  when  he  was  forced  to  give  a  sous  to 


The  Rhine. 


cross  the  bridge  over  the  Marne,  he  became  en- 
raged with  the  Government.  The  gendarme 
paid  no  taxes,  but  related  his  story  with  naivetf. 
In  1814  he  fought  like  a  lion  at  Montmirail:  he 
was  then  a  conscrit.  In  1830,  in  the  days  of  July, 
he  took  fright,  and  fled :  he  was  then  a  gendarme. 
That  surprised  le  bossu,  but  it  did  not  astonish 
me.  Conscrit,  he  was  only  twenty  years  of  age, 
poor  and  brave  ;  gendarme,  he  had  a  wife  and 
children,  and  a  horse  of  his  own  ;  he  played  the 
coward.  The  same  man,  nevertheless,  but  not 
the  same  phase  in  life.  Life  is  a  sort  of  meat, 
which  sauce  alone  renders  palatable.  No  one  is 
more  dauntless  than  a  galley-slave.  In  this 
world,  it  is  not  the  skin  that  is  prized  —  it  is  the 
coat.  He  who  has  nothing  is  fearless. 

We  must  also  admit  that  the  two  epochs  were 
very  different.  Whatever  is  in  vogue  acts  upon 
the  soldier,  as  upon  all  mankind  ;  for  the  idea 
which  strikes  us,  either  stimulates  or  discourages. 
In  1830  a  revolution  broke  out — the  soldier  felt 
himself  under  a  load  ;  he  was  cast  down  in  spirits 
by  the  force  of  contemplation,  which  is  equal  to 
the  force  of  circumstances  ;  he  was  fighting  by 
the  order  of  a  stranger ;  fighting  for  shadows 
created  by  a  disordered  brain — the  dream  of  a 
distempered  mind  —  brother  against  brother — all 
France  against  the  Parisians.  In  1814,  on  the 
contrary,  the  conscrit  struggled  with  foreign  ene- 


Meaux. 


mies,  for  things  easily  comprehended — for  him- 
self, for  his  father,  his  mother,  and  his  sisters— 
for  the  plow  he  had  just  left — for  the  hut 
which  he  saw  smoking  in  the  distance — for  the 
land  which  he  had  trod  in  infancy — for  his  suffer- 
ing and  bleeding  country.  In  1830  the  soldier 
knew  not  what  he  was  fighting  for;  in  1814  he 
he  did  more  than  know  it — he  felt  it ;  he  did 
more  than  feel  it — he  saw  it. 

Three  things  very  much  interested  me  at 
Meaux.  To  the  right,  on  entering  the  town,  is 
a  curious  gateway  leading  to  an  old  church — the 
cathedral ;  and  behind  it  an  old  habitation,  half 
fortification  and  flanked  with  turrets.  There  is 
also  a  court,  into  which  I  boldly  entered,  where  I 
perceived  an  old  woman,  who  was  busily  knit- 
ting. The  good  dame  heeded  me  not,  thus  afford- 
ing me  an  opportunity  of  studying  a  very  hand- 
some staircase  of  stone  and  wood-work,  which, 
supported  upon  two  arches,  and  crowned  by  a 
neat  landing,  led  to  an  old  dwelling.  I  had  not 
time  to  take  a  sketch,  for  which  I  am  sorry,  as  it 
was  the  first  staircase  of  the  kind  I  had  ever 
seen  ;  it  appeared  to  me  to  be  of  the  fifteenth 
century. 

The  cathedral  is  a  noble-looking  building;  its 
erection  was  begun  in  the  fourteenth  century, 
and  continued  to  the  fifteenth.  Several  repairs 
have  lately  been  made,  but  it  is  not  yet  finished, 


The  Rhine. 


for,  of  the  two  spires  projected  by  the  architect, 
one  only  is  completed ;  the  other,  which  has  been 
begun,  is  hidden  under  a  covering  of  slate.  The 
middle  doorway,  and  that  on  the  right,  are  of 
the  fourteenth  century;  the  one  of  the  left  is  of 
the  fifteenth.  They  are  all  very  handsome,  though 
time  has  left  its  impress  upon  their  venerable  ap- 
pearance. I  tried  to  decipher  the  bas-reliefs. 
The  pediment  of  the  left  doorway  represents  the 
history  of  John  the  Baptist;  but  the  rays  of  the 
sun,  which  fell  full  on  the  facade,  preventing  me 
from  satisfying  my  curiosity.  The  interior  of  the 
church  is  superb:  upon  the  choir  are  large  orgees, 
and  at  its  entry  two  beautiful  altars  of  the  fif- 
teenth century ;  but  unfortunately,  in  the  true 
taste  of  the  peasantry,  they  are  daubed  over  with 
yellow  oil  paintings. 

To  the  left  of  the  choir  I  saw  a  very  pretty 
marble  statue  of  a  warrior  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury. It  was  in  a  kneeling  position,  without 
armor,  and  had  no  inscription.  Opposite  is  an- 
other; but  this  one  bears  an  inscription — and 
much  it  requires  it,  to  be  able  to  discover,  in  the 
hard  and  unmeaning  marble,  the  stern  counte- 
nance of  Benigne  Bossuet.  I  saw  his  episcopal 
throne,  which  is  of  very  fine  wainscoting,  in  the 
style  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth  ;  but,  being  pressed 
for  time,  I  was  not  able  to  visit  his  famed  cabinet 
at  the  Bishop's. 


Pascatus, 


Here  is  a  strange  fact.  There  was  a  theater  at 
Meaux  before  there  was  one  at  Paris,  which,  as  is 
written  in  a  local  manuscript,  was  constructed  in 
1547.  Pieces  of  a  mysterious  nature  were  rep- 
resented. A  man  of  the  name  of  Pascalus  played 
the  Devil,  and  afterwards  retained  the  name.  In 
1562  he  delivered  the  city  up  to  the  Huguenots; 
and  in  the  year  following  the  Catholics  hung 
him,  partly  because  he  had  delivered  up  the  city, 
but  chiefly  on  account  of  his  appellation,  "  Le 
Diable"  At  present  there  are  twenty  theaters  in 
Paris,  but  there  is  not  a  single  one  here.  It  is 
said  that  the  good  people  of  Meaux  boast  of  this 
— which  is,  to  be  proud  that  Meaux  is  not  Paris. 

This  country  abounds  with  the  age  of  Louis 
the  Fourteenth — here,  the  Duke  of  Saint  Simon; 
at  Meaux,  Bossuet ;  at  La  Ferte-Milon,  Racine ; 
at  Chateau-Thierry,  La  Fontaine  —  all  within  a 
range  of  twelve  miles.  The  great  seigneur  is 
neighbor  to  the  great  archbishop,  and  Tragedy  is 
elbowing  Fable. 

On  going  out  of  the  cathedral,  I  found  that  the 
sun  had  hid  himself,  which  circumstance  enabled 
me  to  examine  the  facade.  The  pediment  of  the 
central  doorway  is  the  most  curious:  the  inferior 
compartment  represents  Jeanne,  wife  of  Philippe- 
le-Bel,  from  the  deniers  of  whom  the  church  was 
built  after  her  death.  The  Queen  of  France,  her 
cathedral  in  her  hand,  is  represented  at  the  gates 


10  The 


of  Paradise;  St.  Peter  has  opened  the  folding- 
doors  to  her:  behind  the  Queen  is  the  handsome 
King  Philippe,  with  a  sad  and  rueful  counte- 
nance. The  Queen,  who  is  gorgeously  attired 
and  exceedingly  well  sculptured,  points  out  to  St. 
Peter  the  pauvre  diable  of  a  King,  and,  with  a 
side-look  and  shrug  of  the  shoulder,  seems  to 
say:— 

"  Bah  !  allow  him  to  pass  into  the  bargain." 


MontmiraiL  i  f 


CHAPTER    II. 

MONTMIRAIL. — MONTMORT. — EPERNAY. 

Montmirail  Castle. — Vaux  Champs. — The  Recontre  and  Re- 
flections Thereupon.  —  Montmort  Castle.  —  Mademoiselle 
Jeannette. — The  Churches  and  the  Curiosities  of  Epernay. — 
Anecdote  of  Strozzi  and  Brisquet. — Henry  the  Second's 
Fool. 

I  HIRED  the  first  carriage  I  met  at  Fert6- 
sous-Jouarre,  at  the  same  time  asking  one 
question — "Are  the  wheels  in  good  order?" 

On  being  answered  in  the  affirmative,  I  set  out 
for  Montmirail.  There  is  nothing  of  interest  in 
this  little  town,  except  a  pleasing  landscape  at 
the  end  of  an  avenue,  and  two  beautiful  walks 
bordered  with  trees;  all  the  buildings,  the  Chd- 
teau  excepted,  have  a  paltry  and  mean  appear- 
ance. 

On  Monday,  about  five  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
I  left  Montmirail,  and,  directing  my  way  towards 
Epernay,  was  an  hour  afterwards  at  Vaux-Champs. 
A  few  moments  before  crossing  the  far-famed 
field  of  battle,  I  met  a  cart  rather  strangely  laden  ; 
it  was  drawn  by  a  horse  and  an  ass,  and  con- 
tained pans,  kettles,  old  trunks,  straw-bottomed 
chairs,  with  a  heap  of  old  furniture.  In  front,  in 
a  sort  of  basket,  were  three  children,  almost  in  a 


12  The  Rhine. 


state  of  nudity;  behind,  in  another,  were  several 
hens.  The  driver  wore  a  blouse,  was  walking,  and 
carried  a  child  on  his  back ;  a  few  steps  from  him 
was  a  woman,  bearing  a  child  in  her  arms.  They 
were  all  hastening  towards  Montmirail,  as  if  the 
great  battle  of  1814  were  on  the  eve  of  being 
fought. 

'*  Yes,"  I  said  to  myself,  "  twenty-five  years 
ago,  how  many  poor  families  were  seen  flying 
from  place  to  place  !  " 

I  was  informed,  however,  that  it  was  not  a 
removal — it  was  an  expatriation.  It  was  not  to 
Montmirail  they  were  going — -it  was  to  America; 
they  were  not  flying  at  the  sound  of  the  trumpet 
of  war — they  were  hurrying  from  misery  and 
starvation.  In  a  word,  my  dear  friend,  it  was  a 
family  of  poor  Alsacian  peasants  who  were  emi- 
grating. They  could  not  obtain  a  living  in  their 
native  land,  but  had  been  promised  one  in  Ohio. 
They  were  leaving  their  country,  ignorant  of  the 
sjjblime  and  beautiful  verses  that  Virgil  had 
written  upon  them  two  thousand  years  ago. 

These  poor  people  were  traveling  in  seeming 
cheerfulness : — the  husband  was  making  a  thong 
for  his  whip,  the  wife  was  singing,  and  the  child- 
ren playing.  The  furniture,  however,  had  some- 
thing about  it  of  wretchedness  and  of  disorder 
which  caused  pain  ;  the  hens  even  appeared  to 
me  to  feel  their  sad  condition. 


The  Emigrants.  13 


The  indifference  of  the  heads  of  the  family 
astonished  me.  I  really  thought  that,  in  leaving 
the  country  in  which  we  first  see  light,  which 
links  our  hearts  to  so  many  sweet  associations, 
we  should,  on  taking  a  last  look,  shed  a  tear  to 
the  memory  of  the  scenes  of  our  childhood — to 
the  land  which  contained  the  mouldering  ashes 
of  our  forefathers :  but  these  people  seemed  re- 
gardless of  all  this;  their  minds  were  set  upon 
the  country  in  which  they  hoped  to  obtain  a  live- 
lihood. 

I  looked  after  them  for  some  time.  Where  was 
that  jolting  and  tumbling  group  going? — aye, 
and  where  am  I  going?  They  came  to  a  turn  in 
the  road,  and  disappeared ;  for  some  time  I  heard 
the  cracking  of  the  whip,  and  the  song  of  the 
woman — then  all  was  quiet.  A  few  minutes 
afterwards  I  was  in  the  glorious  plains  where  the 
Emperor  had  once  been.  The  sun  was  setting, 
the  trees  were  casting  their  long  shadows,  the 
furrows  which  could  be  traced  here  and  there 
had  a  lightish  appearance,  a  bluish  mist  was  at 
the  bottom  of  the  ravine,  the  fields  seemed 
deserted ;  nothing  could  be  seen  but  two  or  three 
plows  in  the  distance,  which  appeared  to  the  .eye 
like  huge  grasshoppers.  To  my  left  was  a  stone- 
quarry,  where  there  were  large  millstones,  some 
white  and  new,  others  old  and  blackened :  here, 
were  some  lying  pell-mell  on  the  ground — there, 


f4  The  Rhine. 


a  few  standing  erect,  like  the  men  of  an  enor- 
mous draught-board  when  upset. 

I  determined  upon  seeing  the  castle  of  Mont- 
mort,  which  was  about  four  leagues  from  Mont- 
miral ;  I  took  the  Epernay  road.  There  are  six- 
teen tall  elms,  perhaps  the  most  beautiful  in  the 
world,  whose  foliage  hangs  over  the  road  and 
rustles  above  the  head  of  the  passenger.  In 
traveling,  there  is  no  tree  pleases  me  so  much  as 
the  elm ;  it  alone  appears  fantastical,  and  laughs 
at  its  neighbor,  overturning  all  as  it  bends  its 
head,  and  making  all  kinds  of  grimaces  to  the 
passers-by  in  the  evening.  The  foliage  of  the 
young  elm  may  be  said  to  spring  forth  when  your 
eyes  are  fixed  upon  it.  From  Fert6  to  the  place 
where  the  sixteen  elms  are  seen,  the  rtfad  is 
bordered  only  with  poplars,  aspens,  and  walnut- 
trees,  which  circumstance  did  not  at  all  please 
me. 

The  country  is  flat,  the  plain  extending  far 
beyond  the  range  of  the  eye.  Suddenly,  on  leav- 
a  group  of  trees,  we  see  on  the  right,  half  hidden 
in  a  declivity,  a  number  of  turrets,  weather-cocks, 
and  housetops — it  is  the  castle  of  Montmort. 

My  cabriolet  stopped,  and  I  alighted  before 
the  door  of  the  castle.  It  is  an  exquisite  fortress 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  built  of  brick,  with 
slate-work:  it  has  a  double  enciente,  a  moat,  a 
three-arched  bridge,  and  a  village  at  its  foot :  all 


Montmort  Castle. 


around  is  pleasant,  and  the  castle  commands  a 
most  extensive  view.  It  has  a  winding  staircase 
for  men,  and  a  rampe  for  horses.  Below,  there  is 
also  an  old  iron  door,  which  leads  to  the  em- 
brasures of  the  tower,  where  I  saw  four  small 
engines  of  the  fifteenth  century.  The  garrison 
of  the  fortress  at  present  consists  of  an  old  ser- 
vant, Mademoiselle  Jeannette,  who  received  me 
with  the  greatest  civility.  Of  the  apartments  of 
the  interior,  there  only  remain  a  kitchen,  a  very 
fine  vaulted  room  with  a  large  mantelpiece,  the 
great  hall  (which  is  now  made  a  billiard-room), 
and  a  charming  little  cabinet,  with  gilt  wainscot- 
ing. The  great  hall  is  a  magnificent  chamber: 
the  ceiling,  with  its  beams  painted,  gilded,  and 
sculptured,  is  still  entire  ;  the  mantelpiece,  sur- 
mounted by  two  noble-looking  statues,  is  of  the 
finest  style  of  Henry  the  Third.  The  walls  were 
in  former  times  covered  with  vast  squares  of 
tapestry,  on  which  were  the  portraits  of  the 
family.  At  the  revolution  a  few  daring  individ- 
uals of  the  neighboring  village  tore  down  the 
tapestries  and  burned  them,  which  was  a  fatal 
blow  to  feudalism  ;  the  proprietor  replaced  them 
with  old  engravings,  representing  views  of  Rome 
and  of  the  battles  of  the  great  Conde*.  On  leav- 
ing, I  gave  thirty  sous  to  Mademoiselle  Jean- 
nette, who  was  bewildered  with  my  bounty. 
Night  was  coming  on  when  I  left  Montmort. 


1 6  The  Rhine. 


The  road  is  one  of  the  most  detestable  in  the 
world.  It  leads  into  a  wood  which  I  entered, 
and  consequently  I  saw  nothing  of  Epernay  but 
colliers'  huts,  the  smoke  of  which  was  forcing  its 
way  among  the  branches  of  the  trees ;  the  red 
mouth  of  a  distant  furnace  appeared  for  a  few 
moments,  and  the  whistling  wind  agitated  the 
leaves  around.  Above  my  head,  in  the  heavens, 
the  splendid  chariot  was  making  its  voyage  in  the 
midst  of  stars,  while  my  poor  pdtaefo  was  jogging 
along  among  pebbles. 

Epernay — yes,  it  is  the  town  for  Champagne  ; 
— nothing  more,  nothing  less. 

Three  churches  have  succeeded  each  other  ; 
the  first,  a  Roman  church,  was  built  in  1037,  by 
Thibaut  the  First  Count  of  Champagne,  and  son 
of  Eudes ;  the  second,  a  church  of  the  Renais- 
sance, was  built  in  1540,  by  Pierre  Strozzi,  Mar- 
shal of  France,  Seigneur  d'Epernay,  who  was 
killed  at  the  seige  of  Thionville,  in  1558;  the 
third,  the  present  one,  appeared  to  me  to  be 
built  from  the  design  of  Monsieur  Poterlet-Gali- 
chet,  a  worthy  merchant,  whose  shop  and  name 
are  close  to  the  church.  All  three  are  admirably 
described  and  summed  up  by  these  names: 
Thibaut  the  First,  Count  of  Champagne ;  Pierre 
Strozzi,  Marshal  of  France  ;  and  Poterlet-Gali- 
chet,  grocer. 

To   tell  you   the    truth,   the    last -mentioned 


Strossi  and  Brisquet.  if 

church  is  a  hideous  building,  plastered  white, 
and  has  a  heavy  appearance,  with  triglyphs  sup- 
porting the  architrave.  There  is  nothing  left  of 
the  first  church ;  and  of  the  second,  but  a  few 
large  stained  windows,  and  an  exquisite  facade. 
One  of  the  windows  gives  the  history  of  Noah 
with  great  naivett.  The  window -frames  and 
facade  are  daubed  with  the  hideous  plaster  of 
the  new  church.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  saw 
Odry,  with  his  short  white  trousers,  his  blue 
stockings,  and  his  large  shirt-collar,  carrying  the 
casque  and  cuirass  of  Francis  the  First. 

They  wished  to  show  me  the  curiosity  of  the 
country — a  great  wine-cellar,  which  contains  one 
hundred  thousand  bottles.  On  my  way  I  came 
in  sight  of  a  field  of  turnips,  where  poppies  were 
in  flower  and  butterflies  sporting  in  the  rays  of 
the  sun.  I  went  no  further — the  great  cave 
could  well  spare  my  visit. 

I  forgot  to  mention  that  Thibaut  the  First  was 
interred  in  his  church,  and  Strozzi  in  his  ;  how- 
ever, I  should  decidedly  disapprove  of  M.  Poter- 
let-Galichet  having  a  place  in  the  present  one. 

Strozzi  was  rather  what  may  be  termed  a  brave 
man.  Brisquet,  the  Fool  of  Henry  the  Second, 
amusing  himself  one  day,  greased,  before  the 
whole  court,  a  very  handsome  cloak  that  the 
marshal  had  put  on  for  the  first  time.  This 
excited  much  laughter,  and  Strozzi  resorted  to  A, 


1 8  The  Rhine. 


most  cruel  revenge.  For  me,  I  would  not  have 
laughed,  nor  would  I  have  avenged  myself.  To 
bedaub  a  velvet  coat  with  grease  ! — I  have  never 
been  over-delighted  with  this  pleasantry  of  the 
sixteenth  century. 


Varennes. 


CHAPTER    III. 

CHALONS.— SAINTE  MENEHOULD.— VARENNES. 

The  Reverie.— The  Arrest  of  Louis  the  Sixteenth.— The  Saluta- 
tion and  its  Effects. — Notre  Dame  at  Chalons. — Antiquarian 
Forgetfulness.  —  The  Inscription. — Watchman,  Wife,  and 
Gnome  Son. — Abbey  of  Notre  Dame  de  1'Epine. — Storm. — 
Metz  Hotel. — Sleeping  Canary. — Host  and  Hostess. — Cham- 
pagne and  the  Signification  of  Champenois. — Madame  Sab- 
liere  and  La  Fontaine. 

•\7ESTERDAY,  at  the  decline  of  day,  while 
JL       rny  cabriolet  was  rapidly  rolling  by  Sainte 
Menehould,   I   was   reading  these    sublime   and 
beautiful  lines  : 

"  Mugitusque  bovum  mollesque  sub  arbore  somni. 
****** 
Speluncs  vivique  lacus." 

For  some  time,  I  rested  my  hand  upon  my 
book,  with  a  soul  full  of  those  vague  ideas — sad, 
yet  sweet — which  the  rays  of  a  setting  sun  gener- 
ally awaken  in  my  mind,  when  the  noise  of  the 
carriage-wheels  on  the  causeway  awoke  me  from 
my  reverie.  We  were  entering  a  town  ;  but  what 
town  was  it  ?  The  coachman's  reply,  "  Varen- 
nes."  We  traversed  a  street  which  had  some- 
thing grave  and  melancholy  in  its  appearance  ; 
the  doors  and  shutters  of  the  houses  were  closed, 
and  grass  was  growing  in  the  courts.  Suddenly, 


20  The  Rhine. 


after  having  passed  an  old  gateway  of  the  time 
of  Louis  the  Thirteenth,  we  entered  a  square, 
surrounded  with  small  white  houses,  of  one  story 
high.  Louis  the  Sixteenth,  on  his  flight  in  1791, 
was  arrested  in  this  square  by  Drouet,  the  post- 
master of  Sainte  Menehould.  There  was  then 
no  post  at  Varennes.  I  descended  from  my  car- 
riage, and  for  some  time  kept  looking  at  this 
little  square,  which,  to  the  man  who  does  not 
think  of  past  events,  has  a  dull  appearance  ;  but 
to  him  who  does,  it  has  a  sinister  one.  It  is  re- 
ported here  that  Louis,  when  arrested,  protested 
so  strongly  that  he  was  not  the  King  (what 
Charles  the  First  would  never  have  done),  that 
the  people,  half  inclined  to  credit  his  statement, 
were  about  to  release  him,  when  a  Monsieur  Eth6, 
who  had  a  secret  hatred  against  the  court,  ap- 
peared. This  person,  like  a  Judas  Iscariot,  said 
to  the  King  : 

"  Good  day,  Sire." 

This  was  enough.  The  King  was  seized.  There 
were  five  of  the  royal  family  in  the  carriage  with 
him  ;  and  the  miserable,  with  these  words, 
effected  their  downfall. 

"  Bon  jour,  Sire"  was  for  Louis  the  Sixteenth, 
for  Marie  Antoinette,  and  for  Madame  Eliza- 
beth, the  guillotine  ;  for  the  Dauphin,  the  torture 
of  the  Temple  ;  and  for  Madame  Royale,  exile 
and  the  extermination  of  her  race. 


The   Grand  Monarque.  21 

Varennes  is  about  fifteen  leagues  from  Rheims 
— that  is  to  say,  for  my  coachman ;  to  the  mind 
there  is  an  abyss — the  Revolution. 

I  put  up  for  the  night  at  a  very  ancient- 
looking  auberge,  which  had  the  portrait  of  Louis 
Philippe  above  the  door,  with  the  words  in- 
scribed : 

"Au  Grand  Monarque." 

During  the  last  hundred  years,  Louis  the  Fif- 
teenth, Buonaparte,  and  Charles  the  Tenth,  had 
each  figured  in  his  turn.  Louis  the  Sixteenth 
was,  perhaps,  arrested  at  the  Grand  Monarque, 
and,  on  looking  up,  saw  the  portrait  of  himself — 
Pauvre  Grand  Monarque  ! 

This  morning  I  took  a  walk  into  the  town, 
which  is  very  pleasantly  situated  on  the  banks 
of  a  very  pretty  river.  The  old  houses  of  the 
high  town,  seen  from  the  right  bank,  form  a  very 
picturesque  ampitheater ;  but  the  church,  which 
is  in  the  low  town,  is  truly  insignificant.  It  is 
within  sight  of  my  inn,  and  I  can  see  it  from  the 
table  at  which  I  write.  The  steeple  is  dated  1766, 
exactly  a  year  before  Madame  Royale  was  born. 

I  visited  the  church  ;  and  if  I  did  not  find  all  I 
expected,  I  found  what  I  did  not  expect — that 
is,  a  very  pretty  Notre  Dame  at  Chalons.  What 
have  the  antiquaries  been  thinking  of,  when, 
speaking  of  Sainte  Etienne,  they  never  breathed 
a  word  about  Notre  Dame  ?  The  Notre  Dame 


22  TJie  Rhine. 


of  Chalons  is  a  Roman  church,  with  arched  roofs, 
and  a  superb  spire  bearing  the  date  of  the  four- 
teenth century.  In  the  middle  is  a  lantern 
crowned  with  small  pinions.  A  beautiful  coup 
d'osil  is  afforded  here  (a  pleasure  which  I  en- 
joyed) of  the  town,  the  Marne,  and  the  sur- 
rounding hills.  The  traveler  may  also  admire 
the  splendid  windows  of  Notre  Dame,  and  a  rich 
portail  of  the  thirteenth  century.  In  1793  the 
people  of  this  place  broke  the  windows  and 
pulled  down  the  statues ;  they  also  destroyed  the 
lateral  gateway  of  the  cathedral,  and  all  the 
sculpture  that  was  within  their  reach.  Notre 
Dame  had  four  spires,  three  of  which  are  de- 
molished, testifying  the  height  of  stupidity, 
which  is  nowhere  so  evident  as  here.  The 
French  Revolution  was  a  terrible  one  ;  the  revo- 
lution Champenoise  was  attended  with  acts  of  the 
greatest  folly. 

On  the  lantern  I  found  engraved  the  inscrip- 
tion, apparently  in  the  writing  of  the  sixteenth 
century  : 

"  Le  28  Aout,  1508,  la  paix  a  6te  publtee  &  Chal.  .  ." 

This  inscription,  which  is  partly  defaced,  and 
which  no  one  has  sought  to  decipher,  is  all  that 
remains  of  that  great  political  act — the  conclu- 
sion of  peace  between  Henry  the  Third  and  the 
Huguenots,  by  the  intercession  of  the  Duke  of 
Anjou,  previously  the  Duke  of  Alen9on.  The 


Chalons.  2$ 


Duke  of  Anjou  was  the  King's  brother,  and  had 
an  eye  upon  the  Pays  Bas,  and  pretensions  to  the 
hand  of  Elizabeth  of  England  ;  but  the  war  with 
the  religious  sects  which  succeeded  thwarted  him 
in  his  plans.  The  peace,  that  happy  event,  pro- 
claimed at  Chalons  in  1580,  was  forgotten  by  the 
whole  world  on  the  22nd  of  July,  1839. 

The  person  who  conducted  me  to  this  lantern 
was  the  watchman  of  the  town,  who  passed  his 
life  in  the  guette,  a  little  box  with  four  small 
windows.  His  box  and  ladder  are  to  him  a  uni- 
verse ;  he  is  the  eye  of  the  town,  always  open, 
always  awake.  Perpetual  insomnia  would  be 
somewhat  impossible.  True,  his  wife  helps  him. 
Every  night  at  twelve  o'clock  he  goes  to  sleep 
and  she  goes  to  watch ;  at  noon  they  again 
change  places — thus  performing  their  rounds  at 
each  other's  side  without  coming  in  contact, 
except  for  a  minute  at  noon  and  another  at  mid- 
night. A  little  gnome,  rather  comically  shaped, 
whom  they  call  their  son,  is  the  result  of  the 
tangent. 

There  are  three  churches  at  Chalons:  —  St. 
Alpin,  St.  Jean,  and  St.  Loup. 

About  two  leagues  from  Chalons,  upon  the  St. 
Menehould  road,  the  magnificent  Abbey  of  Notre 
Dame  de  1'Epine  suddenly  presents  itself.  I  re- 
mained upwards  of  two  hours  in  this  church, 
rambling  round  and  round.  The  wind  was  blow- 


24  The  Rhine. 


ing  strongly.  I  held  my  hat  with  both  hands, 
and  stood,  my  eyes  filled  with  dust,  admiring  the 
beauties  of  the  edifice. 

I  continued  my  route,  and  after  traveling  three 
miles  came  to  a  village  where  the  inhabitants 
were  celebrating,  with  music  and  dancing,  the 
fete  of  the  place.  On  leaving,  I  perceived,  on 
the  summit  of  a  hill,  a  mean-looking  white  house, 
upon  the  top  of  which  was  a  telescope,  shaped 
like  an  enormous  black  insect,  corresponding  with 
Notre  Dame  de  1'Epine. 

The  sun  was  setting,  the  twilight  approaching, 
and  the  sky  cloudy ;  from  the  plain  I  looked  at 
the  hills,  which  were  half  covered  with  heath, 
like  a  camail  d'tveque,  and,  on  turning  my  head, 
saw  a  flock  of  geese  that  were  cackling  joyously. 

"We  are  going  to  have  rain,"  the  coachman 
said. 

I  looked  up — the  half  of  the  western  sky  was 
shrouded  in  an  immense  black  cloud  ;  the  wind 
became  boisterous;  the  hemlock  in  flower  was 
leveled  with  the  ground ;  and  the  trees  seemed 
to  speak  in  a  voice  of  terror.  A  few  moments 
expired — the  rain  poured  down  in  torrents ;  and 
all  was  darkness,  save  a  beam  of  light  which 
escaped  from  the  declining  sun.  There  was  not 
a  creature  to  be  heard  or  seen — neither  man 
upon  the  road,  nor  bird  in  the  air.  Loud  peals 
of  thunder  shook  the  heavens,  and  brilliant 


Kitchen  at  Met 2.  25 

flashes  of  lightning  contrasted   wildly  with  the 

prevailing  darkness. 

'    A  blast  of  wind  at  length  dispersed  the  clouds 

towards  the  east,  and  the  sky  became  pure  and 

calm. 

On  arriving  at  Sainte  Menehould  the  stars 
were  shining  brightly.  This  is  a  picturesque 
little  town,  with  its  houses  built  at  random  upon 
the  summit  of  a  green  hill,  and  surmounted  by 
tall  trees.  I  saw  one  thing  worthy  of  remark  at 
Sainte  Menehould — that  is,  the  kitchen  at  the 
hotel  of  Metz.  It  may  well  be  termed  a  kitchen  : 
one  of  the  walls  is  covered  with  pans,  the  other 
with  crockery ;  in  the  middle,  opposite  the  win- 
dow, is  a  splendid  fire  and  an  enormous  chim- 
ney ;  all  kinds  of  baskets  and  lamps  hang  from 
the  ceiling ;  by  the  chimney  are  the  jacks,  spits, 
pot-hangers,  kettles,  and  pans  of  all  forms  and 
sizes ;  the  shining  hearth  reflects  light  in  all 
corners  of  the  room,  throwing  a  rosy  hue  on  the 
crockery,  causing  the  edifice  of  copper  to  shine 
like  a  wall  of  brass,  while  the  ceiling  is  crowded 
with  fantastic  shadows.  If  I  were  a  Homer  or  a 
Rabelais,  I  would  say  : 

44  That  kitchen  is  a  world,  and  the  fireplace  is 
its  sun." 

It  is  indeed  a  world — a  republic — consisting  of 
men,  women  and  children  ;  male  and  female  ser- 
vants, scullions,  and  waiters ;  frying-pans  over 

2 


26  The  Rhine. 


chafing  dishes,  bounded  by  pots  and  kettles ; 
children  playing,  cats  and  dogs  mewing  and 
barking,  with  the  master  overlooking  all ; — mens 
agit  at  molem.  In  a  corner  is  a  clock,  which 
gravely  warns  the  occupants  that  time  is  ever  on 
the  wing. 

Among  the  innumerable  things  which  hung 
from  the  ceiling,  there  was  one  that  interested 
me  more  than  all  the  others — a  small  cage,  in 
which  a  canary  was  sleeping.  The  poor  creature 
seemed  to  me  to  be  a  most  admirable  emblem  of 
confidence ;  notwithstanding  the  unwholesome- 
ness  of  the  den,  the  furnace,  the  frightful  kitchen, 
which  is  day  and  night  filled  with  uproar,  the 
bird  sleeps.  A  noise,  indeed,  is  made  around  it 
— the  men  swear,  the  women  quarrel,  the  chil- 
dren cry,  the  dogs  bark,  the  cats  mew,  the  clock 
strikes,  the  water-cock  spouts,  the  bottles  burst, 
the  diligences  pass  under  the  arched  roof,  making 
a  noise  like  thunder — yet  the  eyelid  of  the  feath- 
ered inhabitants  move  not. 

Apropos,  I  must  declare  that  people  generally 
speak  too  harshly  of  inns,  and  I  myself  have  often 
been  the  first  to  do  so.  An  auberge,  take  it  all  in 
all,  is  a  very  good  thing,  and  we  are  often  very 
glad  to  find  one.  Besides,  I  have  often  remarked 
that  there  is  almost  in  all  auberges  an  agreeable 
landlady ;  as  for  the  host,  let  turbulent  travelers 
have  him — give  me  the  hostess.  The  former  is 


Clermont.  27 


a  being  of  a  morose  and  disagreeable  nature,  the 
latter  cheerful  and  amiable.  Poor  woman !  some- 
times she  is  old,  sometimes  in  bad  health,  and 
very  often  exceedingly  bulky.  She  comes  and 
goes ;  is  here  and  there — this  moment  at  the 
heels  of  the  servants,  the  next  one  chasing  the 
dogs ;  she  compliments  the  travelers,  frowns  at 
the  head  servant;  smiles  to  one,  scolds  another; 
stirs  the  fire ;  takes  up  this  and  sends  away  that ; 
in  fact,  she  is  the  soul  of  that  great  body  called 
an  auberge,  the  host  being  fit  for  nothing  but 
drinking  in  a  corner  with  wagoners.  The  fair 
hostess  of  La  Ville  de  Metz,  at  St.  Menehould,  is 
a  young  woman  about  sixteen  years  of  age,  is 
exceedingly  active,  and  she  conducts  her  house- 
hold affairs  with  the  greatest  regularity  and  pre- 
cision. The  host,  her  father,  is  an  exception  to 
the  general  run  of  inn-keepers,  being  a  very  in- 
telligent and  worthy  man ;  in  all,  this  is  an  ex- 
cellent auberge. 

I  left  St.  Menehould,  and  pursued  my  way  to 
Clermont.  The  road  between  those  two  towns 
is  charming ;  on  both  sides  is  a  forest  of  trees, 
whose  green  leaves  glitter  in  the  sun,  and  cast 
their  detached  and  irregular  shadows  on  the  high- 
way. The  villages  have  something  about  them 
of  a  Swiss  and  German  appearance — white  stone 
houses,  with  large  slate  roofs  projecting  three  or 
four  feet  from  the  wall.  I  felt  that  I  was  in  the 


The  Rhine. 


neighborhood  of  mountains :  the  Ardennes,  in 
fact,  are  here. 

Before  arriving  at  Clermont  we  pass  an  ad- 
mirable valley,  where  the  Marne  and  the  Meuse 
meet.  The  road  is  betwixt  two  hills,  and  is  so 
steep  that  we  see  nothing  before  us  but  an  abyss 
of  foliage. 

Clermont  is  a  very  handsome  village,  headed 
by  a  church,  and  surrounded  with  verdure. 

I  find  that  I  have  made  use  of  the  word 
Champenois,  which,  by  some  proverbial  accepta- 
tion, is  somewhat  ironical ;  you  must  not  mis- 
take the  sense  which  I  affix  to  it.  The  proverb 
— more  familiar,  perhaps,  than  it  is  applicable — 
speaks  of  Champagne  as  Madame  la  Sabliere 
spoke  of  La  Fontaine — "  That  he  was  a  man  of 
stupid  genius," — which  expression  is  applied  to 
a  genius  of  Champagne.  That,  however,  neither 
prevents  La  Fontaine  from  being  an  admirable 
poet,  nor  Champagne  from  being  a  noble  and 
illustrious  country.  Virgil  might  have  spoken 
of  it.  as  he  did  of  Italy — 

"  Alma  parens  frugum, 
Alma  virum." 

Champagne  is  the  birthplace,  the  country  of 
Amyot — that  bonhomme  who  took  up  the  theme 
of  Plutarch,  as  La  Fontaine  did  that  of  y£sop ; 
of  Thibaut  the  Fourth,  who  boasted  of  nothing 
more  than  being  the  father  of  Saint  Louis ;  of 


Champagne.  29 


Charlier  de  Gerson,  who  was  chancellor  of  the 
university  of  Paris ;  of  Amadis,  Jamyn,  Colbert, 
Diderot ;  of  two  painters,  Lantare  and  Valentin  ; 
of  two  sculptors,  Girardon  and  Bouchardon ;  of 
two  historians,  Flodoard  and  Mabillon  ;  of  two 
cardinals  full  of  genius,  Henry  de  Lorraine  and 
Paul  de  Gondi :  of  two  popes  full  of  virtue, 
Martin  the  Fourth  and  Urban  the  Fourth;  of  a 
king  full  of  glory,  Philippe-Auguste. 

Champagne  is  a  powerful  province,  and  there 
is  no  town  or  village  in  it  that  has  not  something 
remarkable.  Rheims,  which  owns  the  cathedral 
of  cathedrals,  was  the  place  where  Clovis  was 
baptized.  It  was  at  Andelot  that  the  interview 
between  Gontran  King  of  Bourgogne,  and  Childe- 
bert  King  of  Austrasie,  took  place.  Hinemar 
took  refuge  at  Epernay,  Abailard  at  Provim, 
H61oise  at  Paraclet.  The  Gordiens  triumphed 
at  Langres,  and  in  the  middle  age  its  citizens 
destroyed  the  seven  formidable  castles — Chagney, 
Saint  Broing,  Neuilly  Cotton,  Cobons,  Bourg, 
Humes,  and  Pailly.  The  league  was  concluded 
at  Joinville  in  1584;  Henry  the  Fourth  was  pro- 
tected at  Chalons  in  1591  ;  the  Prince  of  Orange 
was  killed  at  Saint  Dizier;  Sezenne  is  the  ancient 
place  of  arms  of  the  Dukes  of  Bourgogne  ;  Ligny 
1'Abbaye  was  founded  in  the  domains  of  Seigneur 
Chatillon,  by  Saint  Bernard,  who  promised  the 
seigneur  as  many  perches  of  land  in  heaven  as 


30  The  Rhine. 


the  sire  had  given  him  upon  earth.  Mouzon  is 
the  fief  of  the  Abbot  of  Saint  Hubert,  who  sends 
six  coursing  dogs,  and  the  same  number  of  birds 
of  prey,  every  year  to  the  King  of  France. 

Champagne  retains  the  empreinte  of  our  ancient 
kings — Charles  the  Simple  for  the  sirerie  at 
Attigny;  Saint  Louis  and  Louis  the  Fourteenth, 
the  devout  king  and  the  great  king,  first  lifted 
arms  in  Champagne ;  the  former  in  1228,  when 
raising  the  siege  of  Troyes — the  latter  in  1652,  at 
Sainte  Menehould. 

The  ancient  annals  of  Champagne  are  not  less 
glorious  than  the  modern.  The  country  is  full 
of  sweet  souvenirs — Merove*e  and  the  Francs, 
Actius,  and  the  Romans,  Theodoric  and  the  Visi- 
goths, Mount  Jules  and  the  tomb  of  Jovinus. 
Antiquity  here  lives,  speaks,  and  cries  out  to  the 
traveller,  "  Sta,  viator  !  " 

From  the  days  of  the  Romans  to  the  present 
day,  the  town  of  Champagne,  surrounded  at  times 
by  the  Alains,  the  Su&ves,  the  Vandals,  and  the 
Germans,  would  have  been  burnt  to  the  ground, 
rather  than  have  been  given  over  to  the  enemy. 
They  are  built  upon  rocks,  and  have  taken  for 
their  device  "  Donee  moveantur" 

In  451  the  Huns  were  destroyed  in  the  plains 
of  Champagne;  in  1814,  if  Godjiad  willed  it,  the 
Russians  would  also  have  met  the  same  fate. 

Never  speak  of  this  province  but  with  respect. 


Champagne.  3 1 


How  many  of  its  children  have  been  sacrificed 
for  France!  In  1813  the  population  of  one  dis- 
trict of  Marne  consisted  of  311,000.  In  1830  it 
had  only  309,000;  showing  that  fifteen  years  of 
peace  had  not  repai'red  the  loss. 

But,  to  the  explanation  :  When  anyone  applies 
the  word  bete  to  Champagne,  change  the  mean- 
ing: it  signifies  naif,  simple,  rude,  primitive,  and 
redoubtable  in  need.  A  bete  may  be  a  lion,  or  an 
eagle.  It  is  what  Champagne  was  in  1814. 


32  The  Rhine. 


CHAPTER     IV. 

FROM  VILLERS-COTTERETS  TO   LA  FRONTIERE. 

The  Effects  of  Traveling.— The  Retrograde  Movement.— Reflec- 
tion.—The  Secret  of  Stars.— The  Inscription  "  I.  C."— The 
Cathedral  where  King  Pepin  was  Crowned. — The  Prisoner's 
sad  Rencontre. — Rheims. — Church  at  Mezieres. — The  Effects 
of  a  Bomb.  —  Sedan  and  its  Contents.  —  The  Transpiring 
Events  at  Turenne's  Birth. — Conversation  of  a  Sir  John  Fal- 
staff  and  his  Better  Half. 

I  ARRIVED  at  Givet  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  bruised  by  the  jolting  of  a  fright- 
fnl  vehicle,  which  the  people  here  call  a  dili- 
gence. I  stretched  myself,  dressed  as  I  was, 
upon  a  bed,  fell  asleep,  and  awoke  two  hours 
afterwards.  On  opening  the  window  of  my 
chamber,  with  the  idea  of  enjoying  the  view 
which  it  might  afford,  the  only  objects  which 
caught  my  attention  were  the  angle  of  a  little 
white  cottage,  a  water-spout,  and  the  wheel  of  a 
cart.  As  for  my  room,  it  is  an  immense  hall, 
ornamented  with  no  less  than  four  beds. 

A  trifling  incident,  not  worth  relating,  caused 
me  to  make  a  retrograde  movement  from  Va- 
rennes  to  Villers-Cotterets ;  and  the  day  before 
yesterday,  in  order  to  make  up  for  lost  time,  I 
took  the  diligence  for  Soissons.  There  was  no 


33 


passenger  but  myself,  a  circumstance  which  was 
in  no  way  disconcerting,  as  it  gave  me  an  oppor- 
tunity of  turning  over  at  my  ease  the  pages  of 
some  of  my  favorite  authors. 

As  I  approached  Soissons,  day  was  fast  fading, 
and  night  had  cast  its  sombre  aspect  over  that 
beautiful  valley  where  the  road,  after  passing  the 
the  hamlet  of  La  Felie,  gradually  descends,  and 
leads  to  the  cathedral  of  Saint-Jean-des-Vignes. 
Notwithstanding  the  fog  which  rose  around,  I 
perceived  the  walls  and  roofs  of  the  houses  of 
Soissons,  with  a  half-moon  peering  from  behind 
them.  I  alighted,  and,  with  a  heart  fully  ac- 
knowledging the  sublimity  of  nature,  gazed  upon 
the  imposing  scene.  A  grasshopper  was  chirping 
in  the  neighboring  field ;  the  trees  by  the  road- 
side were  softly  rustling ;  and  I  saw,  with  the 
mind's  eye,  Peace  hovering  over  the  plain,  now 
solitary  and  tranquil,  where  Caesar  had  con- 
quered, Clovis  had  exercised  his  authority,  and 
where  Napoleon  had  all  but  fallen.  It  shows 
that  men — even  Caesar,  Clovis,  and  Napoleon — 
are  only  passing  shadows ;  and  that  war  is  a 
fantasy  which  terminates  with  them  ;  whilst  God 
— and  Nature,  which  comes  from  God — and 
Peace,  which  comes  from  Nature — are  things  of 
eternity. 

Determined  on  taking  the  S6dan  mail,  which 
does  not  arrive  at  Soissons  till  midnight,  I  allowed 


34  The  Rhine. 


the  diligence  to  proceed,  knowing  that  I  had 
plenty  of  time  before  me.  The  trajet  which 
separated  me  from  Soissons  was  only  a  charming 
promenade.  When  a  short  distance  from  the 
town,  I  sat  down  near  a  very  pretty  little  house, 
upon  which  the  forge  of  a  blacksmith  shed  a 
faint  light.  I  looked  upwards  :  the  heavens  were 
serene  and  beautiful;  and  the  planets — Jupiter, 
Mars,  and  Saturn — were  shining  in  the  south- 
east. The  first,  whose  course  for  three  months 
is  somewhat  complicated,  was  between  the  other 
two,  and  was  forming  a  perfectly  straight  line. 
More  to  the  east  was  Mars,  fiery  in  his  appear- 
ance, and  imitating  the  starry  constellation  by 
a  kind  of  flamboiement  farouche.  A  little  above, 
shining  softly,  and  with  a  white  and  peaceful  ap- 
pearance, was  that  monster-planet — the  frightful 
and  mysterious  world — which  we  call  Saturn.  On 
the  other  side,  at  the  extremity  of  the  view,  a 
magnificent  beacon  reflected  its  light  on  the 
sombre  hills  which  separate  Noyon  from  Soisson- 
nais.  As  I  was  asking  myself  the  utility  of  such 
a  light  in  these  immense  plains,  I  saw  it  leaving 
the  border  of  the  hills,  bounding  through  the 
fog,  and  mounting  near  the  zenith.  That  beacon 
was  Aldebaran,  the  three-colored  sun,  the  enor- 
mous purple,  silvery,  and  blue  star,  which  rises 
majestically  in  the  waste  of  the  crepuscule. 

O  what  a  secret  there  is  in  these  stars !     The 


The  Heavenly  Bodies.  35 

poetical,  the  thinking,  and  the  imaginative,  have, 
in  turn,  contemplated,  studied,  and  admired  them  : 
some,  like  Zoroaster,  in  bewilderment — others, 
like  Pythagoras,  with  inexpressible  awe.  Seth 
named  the  stars,  as  Adam  did  animals.  The 
Chaldeans  and  the  Genethliaques,  Esdras  and 
Zorobabel,  Orpheus  and  Homer,  Pherecide, 
Xenophon,  Hecataeus,  Herodotus,  and  Thucydi- 
des — all  eyes  of  the  earth,  so  long  shut,  so  long 
deprived  of  light — have  been  fixed  from  one  age 
to  another  on  those  orbs  of  heaven  which  are 
always  open,  always  lighted  up,  always  living.  The 
same  planets,  the  same  stars,  that  fix  our  atten- 
tion to-night,  have  been  gazed  at  by  all  these 
men.  Job  speaks  of  Orion  and  of  the  Pleiades ; 
Plato  listened  and  distinctly  heard  the  vague 
music  of  the  spheres ;  Pliny  thought  that  the  sun 
was  God,  and  that  the  spots  on  the  moon  were 
the  exhalations  of  the  earth.  The  poets  of 
Tartary  named  the  pole  senisticol,  which  means 
an  iron  nail;  Rocoles  says,  "That  the  lion  might 
as  well  have  been  called  the  ape;"  Pacuvius 
would  not  credit  astrologers,  under  the  idea  that 
they  would  be  equal  to  Jupiter  : 

"  Nam  si  qui,  quae  eventura  sunt,  prsevideant, 
^Equiparent  Jovi." 

Favorinus  asked  himself  this  question  : — "  Si  vitae 
mortisque  hominum  rerumque  numanarum  omnU 


36  The  Rhine. 

urn  et  ratio  et  causa  in  coelo  et  apud  Stellas 
foret?"  Aulus-Gellius,  sailing  from  Egine  to 
Pir6e,  sat  all  night  upon  the  poop,  contemplating 
the  stars.  "  Nox  fuit  clemens  mare,  et  anni  czstas 
ccelumque  liquide  serenum ;  sedebamus  ergo  in 
puppi  simul  universi  et  lucent ia  sidera  consider- 
abamus"  Horace  himself — that  practical  phi- 
losopher— the  Voltaire  of  the  age  of  Augustus — 
greater  poet,  it  is  true,  than  the  Voltaire  of  Louis 
the  Fifteenth — shuddered  when  looking  at  the 
stars,  and  wrote  these  terrible  lines : — 

"  Hunc  solem,  et  Stellas  et  decedentia  certis, 
Tempera  momentis  sunt  qui  formidine  nulla 
Imbuti  spectant." 

As  for  me,  I  do  not  fear  the  stars — I  love  them  : 
still,  I  have  never  reflected  without  a  certain  con- 
viction that  the  normal  position  of  the  heavens 
is  night;  and  what  we  call  "day,"  arises  from  the 
appearance  of  a  bright  illuminary. 

We  cannot  always  be  looking  at  immensity; 
ecstasy  is  akin  to  prayer;  the  latter  breathes 
consolation,  but  the  former  fatigues  and  ener- 
vates. On  taking  mine  eyes  from  above,  I  cast 
them  upon  the  wall  facing  me ;  and  even  there 
subject  was  afforded  for  meditation  and  thought. 
On  it  were  traces,  almost  entirely  effaced,  of  an 
ancient  inscription.  I  could  only  make  out  I.  C. 
Without  doubt,  they  referred  either  to  Pagan  or 
Christian  Rome — to  the  city  of  strength,  or  to 


Saint-Jcan-des-  Vignes.  37 

that  of  faith.  I  remained — my  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  stone,  which  seemed  to  become  animate — 
lost  in  vain  hypotheses.  When  I.  C.  were  first 
known  to  men,  they  governed  the  world ;  the 
second  time,  they  enlightened  it — Julius  Caesar 
and  Jesus  Christ. 

Dante,  on  putting  Brutus  the  murderer,  and 
Judas  the  traitor,  together  in  the  lowest  ex- 
tremity of  hell,  and  causing  them  to  be  devoured 
by  Satan,  must  have  been  influenced  by  a  similar 
thought  to  that  which  engrossed  my  whole  atten- 
tion. 

Three  cities  are  now  added  to  Soissons — the 
Noviodunum  of  the  Gauls,  the  Augusta  Suesson- 
ium  of  the  Romans,  and  the  old  Soissons  of 
Clovis,  of  Charles  the  Simple,  and  of  the  Duke 
of  Mayenne.  Nothing  now  remains  of  Suesson- 
ium  but  a  few  ruins ;  among  others,  the  ancient 
temple,  which  has  been  converted  into  the  chapel 
of  Saint  Pierre.  Old  Soissons  is  more  fortunate, 
for  it  still  possesses  Saint-Jean-des-Vignes,  its 
ancient  castle,  and  the  cathedral  where  Pepin 
was  crowned  in  752. 

It  was  very  dark  when  I  entered  Soissons ; 
therefore,  instead  of  looking  for  Noviodonum  or 
Suessonium,  I  regaled  myself  with  a  tolerably 
good  supper.  Being  refreshed,  I  went  out  and 
wandered  about  the  gigantic  silhouette  of  Saint- 
Jean-des-Vignes^  and  it  was  twelve  o'clock  before 


38  The  Rhine. 


I  returned  to  the  anberge,  when  silence  and  dark- 
ness prevailed. 

Suddenly,  however,  a  noise  broke  upon  my 
ear ;  it  was  the  arrival  of  the  mail-coach,  which 
stopped  a  few  paces  from  the  inn.  There  was 
only  one  vacant  place,  which  I  took;  and  was  on 
the  point  of  installing  myself,  when  a  strange  up- 
roar— cries  of  women,  noise  of  wheels,  and  tramp- 
ling of  horses — broke  out  in  a  dark  narrow  street 
adjoining.  Although  the  driver  stated  that  he 
would  leave  in  five  minutes,  I  hurried  to  the 
spot ;  and  on  entering  the  little  street,  saw,  at 
the  base  of  a  huge  wall,  which,  had  the  odious 
and  chilling  aspect  peculiar  to  prisons,  a  low 
arched  door,  that  was  open.  A  few  paces  farther 
on,  a  mournful-looking  vehicle,  stationed  be- 
tween two  gendarmes  on  horseback,  was  half  hid 
in  the  obscurity;  and  near  the  wicket  four  or  five 
men  were  struggling  and  endeavoring  to  force  a 
woman,  who  was  screaming  fearfully,  into  the 
carnage.  The  dim  light  of  a  lantern,  which  was 
carried  by  an  old  man,  cast  a  lugubrious  glare 
upon  the  scene.  The  female,  a  robust  country- 
woman about  thirty  years  of  age,  was  fiercely 
struggling  with  the  men — striking,  scratching, 
and  shrieking ;  and  when  the  lamp  shone  upon 
the  wild  countenance  and  disheveled  hair  of  the 
poor  creature,  it  disclosed,  melancholy  to  behold, 
a  striking  picture  of  despair.  She  at  last  seized 


The  Prisoners.  39 


one  of  the  iron  bars  of  the  wicket ;  but  the  men, 
with   a  violent    effort,  forced   her   from    it,   and 
carried  her  to  the  cart.     This  vehicle,  upon  which 
the  lantern  was  then  shining,  had  no  windows, 
small  holes  drilled  in  front  supplied  their  place. 
There  was  a  door  at  the  back  part,  which   was 
shut,  and  guarded  by  large  bolts  of  iron.     When 
opened,  the    interior  of  the  carriole  disclosed  a 
sort  of  box,  without  light,  almost  without   air. 
It  was  divided  into  oblong  compartments  by  a 
thick  board,  the  one  having  no  communication 
with  the  other,  and  the  door  shutting  both  at  the 
same  time.    One  of  the  cells,  that  to  the  left,  was 
empty,  but  the  right  one  was  occupied.     In  the 
angle,  squatted  like  a  wild  beast,  was  a  man — if 
a  kind  of  spectre,  with  a  broad  face,  a  flat  head, 
large    temples,    grizzled    hair,    short    legs,    and 
dressed   in  a  pair  of  old,  torn  trousers  and  tat- 
tered, coat,  may  be  called  one.     The  legs  of  the 
wretched  man  were  closely  chained  together ;    a 
shoe  was  on  his  right  foot,  while  his  left,  which 
was  enveloped  in  linen  stained  with  blood,  was 
partly  exposed  to  view.     This  creature,  hideous 
to  the  sight,  who  was  eating  a  piece  of  black 
bread,  paid  no  attention  to  what  was  going  on 
around   him ;  nor   did   he   look   up   to   see   the 
wretched  companion  that  was  brought  him.    The 
poor  woman  was  still  struggling  with  the  men, 
who  were  endeavoring   to  thrust   her   into  the 


40  The  Rhine. 


empty  cell,  and  was  crying  out,  "  No,  I  shall  not ! 
Never — never  ! — kill  me  sooner — never!  " 

In  one  of  her  convulsions  she  cast  her  eyes 
into  the  vehicle,  and  on  perceiving  the  prisoner 
she  suddenly  ceased  crying,  her  legs  trembled, 
her  whole  frame  shook,  and  she  exclaimed,  with 
a  stifled  voice,  but  with  an  expression  of  anguish 
that  I  shall  never  forget : 

"  Oh,  that  man  !  " 

The  prisoner  looked  at  her  with  a  confused  yet 
ferocious  air.  I  could  resist  no  longer.  It  was 
clear  that  she  had  committed  some  serious  crime 
—perhaps  robbery,  perhaps  worse ;  that  the  gen- 
darmes were  transporting  her  from  one  place  to 
another  in  one  of  those  odious  vehicles  meta- 
phorically called  by  the  gamins  of  Paris  "  paniers 
b  salade ;  "  but  she  was  a  woman,  and  I  thought 
it  my  duty  to  interfere.  I  called  to  the  galley- 
sergeant,  but  he  paid  no  attention  to  me.  A 
worthy  gendarme,  however,  stepped  forward,  and, 
proud  of  his  little  authority,  demanded  my  pass- 
port. Unfortunately  I  had  just  locked  up  that 
essentiel  in  my  trunk,  and,  whilst  entering  into 
explanations,  the  jailers  made  a  powerful  effort, 
plunged  the  woman  half-dead  into  the  cart,  shut 
the  door,  pushed  the  bolts,  and  when  I  turned 
round  all  had  left,  and  nothing  was  heard  but  the 
rattling  of  the  wheels  and  the  trampling  of  the 
escort. 


Meziercs.  41 


A  few  minutes  afterwards  I  was  comfort- 
ably seated  in  a  carriage  drawn  by  four  excellent 
horses.  I  thought  of  the  wretched  woman,  and 
I  contrasted,  with  an  aching  heart,  my  situation 
with  hers.  In  the  midst  of  such  thoughts  I  fell 
asleep. 

When  I  awoke,  morning  was  breaking;  we  were 
in  a  beautiful  valley — that  of  Braine-sur-Vesle. 
Venus  was  shining  above  our  heads,  and  its  rays 
cast  a  serenity  and  an  inexpressible  melancholy 
upon  the  fields  and  woods — it  was  a  celestial  eye, 
which  opened  upon  this  sleeping  and  lovely 
country. 

From  Rheims  to  Bethel  there  is  nothing  inter- 
esting, and  the  latter  place  affords  little  worthy 
of  remark. 

On  arriving  at  Mezi&res  I  anxiously  looked  on 
all  sides  for  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  castle  of 
Hellebarde,  but  could  not  perceive  them.  The 
church  of  Mezi&res  is  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
and  has,  to  the  right  and  left  of  the  choir,  two 
bas-reliefs  of  the  time  of  Charles  the  Eighth. 
On  the  north  of  the  apside  I  perceived  an  inscrip- 
tion upon  the  wall,  which  testified  that  Mezi&res 
was  cruelly  assailed  and  bombarded  by  the  Prus- 
sians in  1815  ;  and  above  it  these  words: — 

"  Lector  leva  oculos  ad  fornicem  et  vide  quasi 
quoddam divines  manus  indicium" 

I  raised   my  eyes  and  saw  a  large  rent  in  the 


42  The  Rhine. 


vault  above  my  head,  and  in  it  an  enormous 
bomb,  which,  after  having  pierced  the  roof  of 
the  church,  the  timber-work,  and  the  masonry, 
was  thus  stopped,  as  if  by  miracle,  when  about 
to  fall  upon  the  pavement.  Twenty-five  years 
have  now  expired,  and  still  it  remains  in  the 
same  position.  That  bomb,  and  that  wide  rent 
which  is  above  the  head  of  the  visitor,  produce  a 
very  strange  effect,  which  is  heightened  upon 
reflecting  that  the  first  bomb  made  use  of  in  war 
was  at  Mezi&res,  in  the  year  1521.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  church  another  inscription  informs  us 
that  the  nuptials  of  Charles  the  Ninth  with  Eli/ 
abeth  of  Austria  were  happily  celebrated  in  this 
church,  on  the  i/th  November,  1570,  two  years 
before  St.  Bartholomew.  The  grand  portail  is 
of  this  epoch,  and,  consequently,  noble  in  ap- 
pearance, and  of  a  refined  taste. 

As  for  Mezi&res — there  are  some  very  tall  trees 
upon  its  ramparts;  the  streets  are  clean,  and 
remarkable  for  their  dullness;  there  is  nothing 
about  the  town  that  reminds  us  of  Hellebarde 
and  Garinus,  the  founders;  Balthazar,  who  ran- 
sacked it ;  Count  Hugo,  who  ennobled  it ;  or  of 
Folques  and  Adalberon,  who  besieged  it. 

It  was  near  noon  when  I  arrived  at  S6dan,  and, 
instead  of  seeing  monuments  and  edifices,  I  saw 
what  the  town  contains  —  pretty  women,  hand- 
some carabiniers,  cannons,  and  trees  and  prairies 


SSdan.  43 


along  the  Meuse.  I  tried  to  find  some  vestiges 
of  M.  de  Turenne,  but  did  not  succeed.  The 
pavilion  where  he  was  born  is  demolished,  but  a 
black  stone,  with  the  following  inscription,  sup- 
plies its  place  : 

"  Ici  NAQUIT  TURENNE 
LE  ii  SEPTEMBRE  MDCXI." 

The  date,  which  is  in  prominent  gold  letters, 
struck  me,  and  my  mind  reverted  to  that  event- 
ful period.  In  1611  Sully  retired;  Henry  the 
Fourth  was  assassinated  the  preceding  year ; 
Louis  the  Thirteenth,  who  ought  to  have  died 
as  his  father  did,  on  the  I4th  of  May,  was 
then  ten  years  old  ;  Richelieu  was  in  his  twenty- 
sixth  year ;  the  good  people  of  Rouen  called  a 
man  Petit  Pierre,  who  was  afterwards  named 
by  the  universe  le  Grand  Corneille  ;  Shakspeare 
and  Cervantes  were  living,  so  were  Branthome 
and  Pierre  Mathieu.  In  161 1  Papirien  Masson  and 
Jean  Buss6e  breathed  their  last ;  Gustave  Adolphe 
succeeded  the  visionary  monarch  Charles  the 
Ninth  of  Sweden  ;  Philip  the  Third,  in  spite  of 
the  advice  of  the  Duke  of  Osunna,  drove  the 
Moors  from  Spain  ;  and  the  German  astronomer, 
Jean  Fabricius,  discovered  the  spots  on  the  sun. 
Such  are  the  events  that  were  transpiring  in 
the  world  when  Turenne  was  born.  S6dan  has 
not  been  a  pious  guardian  of  his  memory,  nor,  in 
fact,  has  it  in  its  annals  any  souvenirs  of  William 


The  Rhine 


de  la  March,  the  Boar  of  Ardennes,  the  frightful 
predecessor  of  Turenne. 

After  having  made  a  good  breakfast  in  the 
Hotel  de  la  Croix  d'Or,  I  decided  on  returning 
on  foot  to  Mezieres,  and  to  take  the  coach  for 
Givet.  The  distance  is  five  leagues,  but  the 
road  is  truly  picturesque,  running  along  the 
valley  of  the  Meuse.  About  a  league  from 
S£dan  we  meet  Douchery,  with  its  old  wooden 
bridge  and  fine  trees ;  villages,  with  smiling 
urchins,  chatelets,  shrouded  in  massive  verdure, 
where  sheep  and  oxen  are  grazing  in  the  sun. 

I  arrived  at  Mezieres  at  seven  in  the  evening, 
and  at  eight,  seated  in  a  miserable  coupt,  between 
a  Sir  John  Falstaff  and  a  female  who  might  well 
have  passed  for  his  better  half,  set  out  for  Givet. 
The  two  gros  etres  began  to  converse,  and  spoke 
of  events  as  striking  as  they  were  stirring — such 
as,  "  that  it  is  now  twenty- two  years  since  I  was 
at  Rocroy," — "  that  M.  Crochard,  the  secretary 
of  the  under-prefecture,  is  his  intimate  friend," — 
"  that,  as  it  is  twelve  at  night,  the  good  Mons. 
Crochard  must  be  in  bed." 

Day  dawned.  We  approached  a  drawbridge, 
which  was  lowered,  and  shortly  afterwards  we 
entered  into  a  narrow  street,  that  led  into  a 
court,  where  servants  came  running  with  candles 
in  their  hands,  and  grooms  with  lanterns.  I 
was  at  Givet. 


Flemish  Architecture.  45 


CHAPTER    V. 

GIVET. 

Flemish  Architects. — Little    Givet.  —  The    Inscription.  —  Jose 
Gutierez.— The  Peasant  Girl. 

THIS  is  an  exceedingly  pretty  town,  situ- 
ated on  the  Meuse,  which  separates  Great 
from  Little  Givet,  and  is  headed  by  a  ridge  of 
rocks,  at  the  summit  of  which  is  the  fort  of 
Charlemont.  The  auberge,  called  the  Hotel  of 
the  Golden  Mount,  is  very  comfortable ;  and 
travelers  may  find  refreshments  there,  which, 
though  not  the  most  exquisite,  are  palatable  to 
the  hungry,  and  a  bed,  though  not  the  softest  in 
the  world,  highly  acceptable  to  the  weary. 

The  steeple  of  Little  Givet  is  of  simple  con- 
struction ;  that  of  Great  Givet  is  more  compli- 
cated— more  rechercht.  The  worthy  architect,  in 
planning  the  latter,  had,  without  doubt,  recourse 
to  the  following  mode  :  —  He  took  a  priest's 
square  cap,  on  which  he  placed  bottom  upwards, 
a  large  plate ;  above  this  plate  a  sugar-loaf 
headed  with  a  bottle,  a  steel  spike  thrust  into  its 
neck ;  and  on  the  spike  he  perched  a  cock,  the 
purport  of  which  was  to  inform  its  beholders  the 
way  that  the  wind  blew.  Supposing  that  he  took 


46  The  Rhint 


a  day  to  each  idea,  he  therefore  must  have  rested 
the  seventh.  This  artist  was  certainly  Flemish. 

About  two  centuries  ago  Flemish  architects 
imagined  that  nothing  could  exceed  in  beauty 
gigantic  pieces  of  slate,  resembling  kitchen-ware, 
— so,  when  they  had  a  steeple  to  build,  they 
profited  by  the  occasion,  and  decked  their  towns 
with  a  host  of  colossal  plates. 

Nevertheless,  a  view  of  Givet  still  has  charms, 
especially  if  taken  towards  evening  from  the 
middle  of  the  bridge.  When  I  viewed  it,  night, 
which  helps  to  screen  the  foolish  acts  of  man, 
had  begun  to  cast  its  mantle  over  the  contour  of 
this  singularly-built  steeple ;  smoke  was  hovering 
about  the  roofs  of  the  houses ;  at  my  left,  the 
elms  were  softly  rustling ;  to  my  right,  an  ancient 
tower  was  reflected  on  the  bosom  of  the  Meuse  ; 
further  on,  at  the  foot  of  the  redoubtable  rock 
of  Charlemont,  I  descried,  like  a  white  line,  a 
long  edifice,  which  I  found  to  be  nothing  more 
than  an  uninhabited  country  house ;  above  the 
town,  the  towers,  and  steeples,  an  immense  ridge 
of  rocks  hid  the  horizon  from  my  sight ;  and  in 
the  distance,  in  a  clear  sky,  the  half-moon  ap- 
peared with  so  much  purity — with  so  much  of 
heaven  in  it — that  I  imagined  that  God  had  ex- 
posed to  our  view  part  of  his  nuptial  ring  to 
testify  his  wedded  affection  to  man. 

Next  day  I  determined  to  visit  the  venerable 


Jose  Gutierez.  47 


turret  which  crowned,  in  seeming  respect,  little 
Givet.  The  road  is  steep,  and  commands  the 
services  of  both  hands  and  feet.  After  some  in- 
considerable trouble,  and  no  slight  labor  of  all- 
fours,  I  reached  the  foot  of  the  tower,  which  is 
fast  falling  into  ruin,  where  I  found  a  huge  door 
secured  by  a  large  padlock.  I  knocked  and 
shouted,  but  no  one  answered,  so  I  was  obliged 
to  descend  without  gratifying  my  curiosity.  My 
pains,  however,  were  not  altogether  lost,  for,  on 
passing  the  old  edifice,  I  discovered  among  the 
rubbish,  which  is  daily  crumbling  into  dust  and 
falling  into  the  stream,  a  large  stone,  on  which 
were  the  vestiges  of  an  inscription.  I  examined 
them  attentively,  but  could  only  make  out  the 
following  letters : 

"LOQVE  .  .  .  SA  .  L  .  OMBRE 
PARAS  .  .  .  MODI  .  SL  . 
ACAV  .  P  .  .  .  SOTROS." 

Above  these  letters^  which  seem  to  have  been 
scratched  with  a  nail,  the  signature,  "  lOSE 
GviTEREZ,  ^643,"  remained  entire. 

Inscriptions,  from  boyhood,  always  interested 
me ;  and  I  assure  you,  this  one  opened  up  a  vein 
of  thought  and  inquiry.  What  did  this  inscrip- 
tion signify? — in  what  language  was  it  written? 
By  making  some  allowance  for  orthography,  one 
might  imagine  that  it  was  French ;  but,  on  con- 
sidering that  the  words  para  and  otros  were 


48  The  Rhine. 


Spanish,  I  concluded  that  it  must  have  been 
written  in  Castilian.  After  some  reflection,  I 
imagined  that  these  were  the  original  words : — 

41  LO  QUE  EMPESA  EL  HOMBRE 
PARA  SIMISMO  DIGS  LE 
ACAVA  PARA  LOS  OTROS." 

— "What  man  begins  for  himself,  God  finishes 
for  others." 

But  who  was  this  Gutierez?  The  stone  had 
evidently  been  taken  from  the  interior  of  the 
tower.  It  was  in  1643  that  the  battle  of  Rocroy 
was  fought.  Was  Jose  Gutierez,  then,  one  of  the 
vanquished  ?  had  he,  to  while  away  the  long  and 
tiresome  days,  written  on  the  walls  of  the  dun- 
geon, the  melancholy  resume'  of  his  life,  and  of 
that  of  all  mankind — 

"  Ce  que  Vhomme  commence  pour  lui,  Dieu 
fac/ieve  pour  les  autres  ?  " 

At  five  o'clock  next  morning,  alone,  and  com- 
fortably seated  on  the  banquette  of  the  diligence 
Van  Gend,  I  left  la  France  by  the  route  of 
Namur.  We  proceeded  by  the  only  chain  of 
mountains  of  which  Belgium  can  boast ;  for  the 
Meuse,  by  continuing  to  flow  in  opposition  to 
the  abaissement  of  the  plateau  of  Ardennes,  suc- 
ceeded in  forming  a  plain  which  is  now  called 
Flanders — a  plain  to  which  nature  has  refused 
mountains  for  its  protection,  but  which  man  has 
studded  with  fortresses. 


The  Peasant  Girl.  49 

After  an  ascension  of  half  an  hour,  the  horses 
became  fatigued,  the  condiicteur  thirsty,  and  they 
(I  might  say  we),  with  one  accord  stopped  before 
a  small  wine-shop,  in  a  poor  but  picturesque 
village,  built  on  the  two  sides  of  a  ravine  cut 
through  the  mountains.  This  ravine,  which  is  at 
one  time  the  bed  of  a  torrent,  and  at  another  the 
leading  street  of  the  village,  is  paved  with  the 
granite  of  the  surrounding  mountains.  When 
we  were  passing,  six  harnessed  horses  proceeded, 
or  rather  climbed,  along  that  strange  and  fright- 
fully steep  street,  drawing  after  them  a  large 
empty  vehicle  with  four  wheels.  If  it  had  been 
laden,  I  am  pursuaded  that  it  would  have  re- 
quired twenty  horses  to  have  drawn  it.  I  can  in 
no  way  account  for  the  use  of  such  carriages  in 
this  ravine,  if  they  are  not  meant  to  serve  as 
sketches  for  young  Dutch  painters,  whom  we  met 
here  and  there  upon  the  road — a  bag  upon  their 
back,  and  a  stick  in  their  hand. 

What  can  a  person  do  on  the  outside  of  a  coach 
but  gaze  at  all  that  comes  within  his  view?  I 
could  not  be  better  situated  for  such  a  purpose. 
Before  me  was  the  greater  portion  of  the  valley 
of  the  Meuse  ;  to  the  south  were  the  two  Givets, 
graciously  linked  by  their  bridge ;  to  the  west 
was  the  tower  of  Egmont,  half  in  ruins,  which 
was  casting  behind  it  an  immense  shadow;  to  the 
north  were  the  sombre  trenches  into  which  the 
3 


50  The  Rhine. 


Meuse  was  emptying  itself,  whence  a  light  blue 
vapor  arose.  On  turning  my  head,  my  eyes  fell 
upon  a  handsome  peasant-girl,  who  was  sitting 
by  the  open  window  of  a  cottage,  dressing  her- 
self; and  above  the  hut  of  the  paysanne,  but 
almost  close  to  view,  were  the  formidable  bat- 
teries of  Charlemont,  which  crowned  the  frontiers 
of  France. 

Whilst  I  was  contemplating  this  coup  dccil,  the 
peasant-girl  lifted  her  eyes,  and  on  perceiving 
me,  she  smiled ;  saluted  me  graciously ;  then, 
without  shutting  the  window  or  appearing  dis- 
concerted, she  continued  her  toilette. 


Liege.  51 


CHAPTER     VI. 

THE   BANKS  OF  THE  MEUSE — DINANT — NAMUR. 

The  Lesse.— A  Flemish  Garden.— The  Mannequin.— The  Tomb- 
stone.— Athletic  Demoiselles. — Signboards  and  their  utility. 

1HAVE  arrived  at  Liege.     The   route  from 
Givet,  following  the  course  of  the  Meuse,  is 
highly  picturesque;  and  it  strikes  me  as  singular 
that  so  little  has  been  said  of  the  banks  of  this 
river,  for  they  are  truly  beautiful  and  romantic. 

After  passing  the  cabin  of  the  peasant-girl,  the 
road  is  full  of  windings,  and  during  a  walk  of 
three-quarters  of  an  hour  we  are  in  a  thick  forest, 
interspersed  with  ravines  and  torrents.  Then 
a  long  plain  intervenes,  at  the  extremity  of 
which  is  a  frightful  yawning — a  tremendous 
precipice,  upwards  of  three  hundred  feet  in 
depth.  At  the  foot  of  the  precipice,  amidst 
the  brambles  which  bordered  it,  the  Meuse 
is  seen  meandering  peacefully,  and  on  its 
banks  is  a  chatelet  resembling  a  patisserie  mani- 
tre'e,  or  time-piece,  of  the  days  of  Louis  the 
Fifteenth,  with  its  decorated  walls,  and  its  Lilli- 
putian and  fantastical  garden.  Nothing  is  more 
singularly  striking  and  more  ridiculous  than  this 
— the  petty  work  of  man,  surrounded  by  Nature 
in  all  her  sublimity.  One  is  apt  to  say  that  it  is  a 


52  The  Rhine. 


shocking  demonstration  of  the  bad  taste  of  man, 
brought  into  contrast  with  the  sublime  poetry  of 
God. 

After  the  gulf,  the  plain  begins  again,  for  the 
ravine  of  the  Meuse  divides  it  as  the  rut  of  a 
wheel  cuts  the  ground. 

About  a  quarter  of  a  league  further  on,  the 
road  becomes  very  steep,  and  leads  abruptly  to 
the  river.  The  declivity  here  is  charming. 
Vine -branches  encircle  the  hawthorn,  which 
crowd  both  sides  of  the  road.  The  Meuse  at 
this  point  is  straight,  green  in  appearance,  and 
runs  to  the  left  between  two  banks  thickly 
studded  with  trees.  A  bridge  is  next  seen,  then 
another  river,  smaller  yet  equally  beautiful, 
which  empties  itself  into  the  Meuse.  It  is  the 
Lesse  ;  three  leagues  from  which,  in  a  cavity  on 
the  right,  is  the  famed  grotto  of  Hansur  Lesse. 

On  turning  the  road,  a  huge  pyramidal  rock, 
sharpened  like  the  spire  of  a  cathedral,  suddenly 
appears.  The  condncteur  told  me  that  it  was  the 
Roche  a  Bazar d.  The  road  passes  between  the 
mountain  and  this  colossal  borne,  then  turns 
again,  and  at  the  foot  of  an  enormous  block  of 
granite,  crowned  with  a  citadel,  a  church,  and  a 
long  street  of  old  houses  meet  the  eye.  It  is 
Dinant. 

We  stopped  here  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
and  observed  a  little  garden  in  the  diligence- 


Valley  of  the  Meuse.  53 

yard,  which  is  sufficient  to  warn  the  traveler  that 
he  is  in  Flanders.  The  flowers  in  it  are  very 
pretty:  in  the  midst  are  two  painted  statues, 
the  one  represents  a  woman,  or  rather  a  man- 
nequin, for  it  is  clothed  in  an  Indian  gown,  with 
an  old  silk  bonnet.  On  approaching,  an  indis- 
tinct noise  strikes  the  ear  and  a  strange  spurting 
of  water  is  perceived.  We  then  discovered  that 
this  female  is  a  fountain. 

After  leaving  Dinant,  the  valley  extends,  and 
the  Meuse  gradually  widens.  On  the  right  hand 
of  the  river,  the  ruins  of  two  ancient  castles  pre- 
sent themselves ;  the  rocks  are  now  only  to  be 
seen  here  and  there  under  a  rich  covering  of 
verdure ;  and  a  housse  of  green  velours,  bordered 
with  flowers,  covers  the  face  of  the  country. 

On  this  side  are  hop-fields,  orchards,  and  trees 
burdened  with  fruit;  on  that,  the  laden  vine  is 
ever  appearing,  amongst  whose  leaves  the  feath- 
ery tribe  are  joyously  reveling.  Here  the  cack- 
ling of  ducks  is  heard,  there  the  chuckling  of 
hens.  Young  girls,  their  arms  naked  to  the 
shoulder,  are  seen  jocosely  walking  along,  with 
laden  baskets  on  their  heads;  and  from  time  to 
time  a  village  churchyard  meets  the  eye,  con- 
trasting strangely  with  the  neighboring  road — so 
full  of  joy,  of  beauty,  and  of  life. 

In  one  of  those  churchyards,  whose  dilapidated 
walls  leave  exposed  to  view  tall  grass,  green  and 


54  The  Rhine.- 


blooming,  mocking,  as  it  were,  the  once  vain 
mortal  that  moulders  beneath,  I  read  on  a  tomb- 
stone the  following  inscription — 

"  O  PIE,  DEFUNCTIS  MISERIS  SUCCURRE,  VIATOR  ?  " 

No  memento  had  ever  such  an  effect  upon  me 
as  this  one.  Ordinarily,  the  dead  warn — there, 
they  supplicate. 

After  passing  a  hill,  where  the  rocks,  sculp- 
tured by  the  rain,  resembled  the  half-worn  and 
blackened  stones  of  the  old  fountain  of  Luxem- 
bourg, we  begin  to  perceive  our  approximation 
to  Namur.  Gentlemen's  country  seats  begin  to 
mix  with  the  abodes  of  peasants,  and  the  villa  is 
no  sooner  passed  than  we  come  to  a  village. 

The  diligence  stopped  at  one  of  these  places, 
where  I  had,  on  one  side,  a  garden  well  orna- 
mented with  colonnades  and  Ionic  temples ;  on 
the  other,  a  cabaret,  at  the  door  of  which  a  num- 
ber of  men  and  women  were  drinking ;  and  to 
the  right,  upon  a  pedestal  of  white  marble, 
veined  by  the  shadows  of  the  branches,  a  Venus 
de  Medicis,  half  hid  among  leaves,  as  if  ashamed 
to  be  seen  in  her  nudid  state  by  a  group  of 
peasants. 

A  few  steps  further  on,  were  two  or  three 
good-looking,  athletic  wenches,  perched  upon  a 
plum-tree  of  considerable  height ;  one  of  them 
in  a  rather  delicate  attitude,  but  perfectly  re- 


Namnr.  55 


gardless    of    and    unregarded    by   the   peasants 
underneath. 

About  an  hour  afterwards  we  arrived  at  Na- 
mur,  which  is  situated  near  the  junction  of  the 
Sombre  and  the  Meuse.  The  women  are  pretty, 
and  the  men  are  handsome,  and  they  have  some- 
thing pleasing  and  affable  in  their  cast  of  coun- 
tenance. As  to  the  town  itself,  there  is  nothing 
remarkable  in  it ;  nor  has  it  anything  in  its  gen- 
eral appearance  which  speaks  of  its  antiquity. 
There  are  no  monuments,  no  architecture,  no 
edifices  worthy  of  notice ;  in  fact,  Namur  can 
boast  of  nothing  but  mean-looking  churches  and 
fountains,  of  the  mauvais  gout  of  Louis  XV. 
The  town  is  crowned,  gloomily  and  sadly,  by  the 
citadel.  However,  I  must  say  that  I  looked  upon 
these  fortifications  with  a  feeling  of  respect,  for 
they  had  once  the  honor  of  being  attacked  by 
Vauban  and  defended  by  Cohorn. 


56  The  Rhine. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE  BANKS  OF  THE   MEUSE — HUY — LIEGE. 

A  Chapel  of  the  Tenth  Century.— Iron  Works  of  Mr.  Cockerill ; 
their  singular  appearance. — St.  Paul's  at  Liege. — Palace  of 
the  Ecclesiastical  Princes  of  Liege. — Significant  decorations 
of  a  room  at  Liege. 

ON  leaving  Namur  we  entered  a  magnificent 
avenue  of  trees,  whose  foliage  serves  to 
hide  from  our  view  the  town,  with  its  mean  and 
uncouth  steeples,  which,  seen  at  a  distance,  have 
a  grotesque  and  singular  appearance.  After  pass- 
ing those  fine  trees,  the  fresh  breeze  from  the 
Meuse  reaches  us,  and  the  road  begins  to  wend 
cheerfully  along  the  river  side.  The  Meuse 
widens  by  the  junction  of  the  Sombre,  the 
valley  extends,  and  the  double  walls  of  rocks 
reappear,  resembling  now  and  then,  Cyclop 
fortresses,  great  dungeons  in  ruins,  and  vast 
Titaniques  towers. 

The  rocks  of  the  Meuse  contain  a  great  quan- 
tity of  iron.  When  viewed  in  the  landscape, 
they  are  of  a  beautiful  color;  but  broken,  they 
change  into  that  odious  greyish-blue  which 
pervades  all  Belgium,  That  which  is  magnificent 
in  mountains  loses  the  grandeur,  when  broken 
and  converted  into  houses 


57 


"It  is  God  who  forms  the  rocks;  man  is  the 
builder  of  habitations." 

We  passed  hastily  through  a  little  village 
called  Sanson,  near  which  stand  the  ruins  of  a 
castle,  built,  it  is  said,  in  the  days  of  Clodion. 
The  rocks  at  this  place  represent  the  face  of  a 
man,  to  which  the  conducteur  never  fails  to  direct 
the  attention  of  the  traveler.  We  then  came  to 
the  Ardennes,  where  I  observed — what  would  be 
highly  appreciated  by  antiquaries — a  little  rustic 
church,  still  entire,  of  the  tenth  century.  In  an- 
other village  (I  think  it  is  Sclayen)  is  seen  the 
following  inscription,  in  large  characters,  above 
the  principal  door  of  the  church  : — 

"  LES   CHIENS   HORS    DE   LA   MAISON   DE   DIEU." 

If  I  were  the  worthy  curate,  I  should  deem  it 
more  important  for  men  to  enter,  than  dogs  to 
go  out. 

After  passing  the  Ardennes,  the  mountains 
become  scattered,  and  the  Meuse,  no  longer  run- 
ning by  the  roadside,  crosses  among  prairies. 
The  country  is  still  beautiful,  but  the  cheminte  de 
Vusine — that  sad  obelisk  of  our  civilisation  indus- 
trielle — too  often  strikes  the  eye.  The  road  again 
joins  the  river :  we  perceive  vast  fortifications, 
like  eagles'  nests,  perched  upon  rocks ;  a  fine 
church  of  the  fourteenth  century;  and  an  old 
bridge  with  seven  arches.  We  are  at  Huy. 
3* 


The  Rhine. 


Huy  and  Dinant  are  the  prettiest  towns  upon 
the  Meuse ;  the  former  about  half  way  between 
Namur  and  Liege,  the  latter  half  way  between 
Namur  and  Givet.  Huy,  which  is  at  present  a 
redoubtable  citadel,  was  in  former  times  a  warlike 
commune,  and  held  out  with  valor  a  siege  with 
Liege,  as  Dinant  did  with  Namur.  In  those 
heroic  times,  cities,  as  kingdoms  now,  were 
always  declaring  war  against  each  other. 

After  leaving  Huy,  we  from  time  to  time  see 
on  the  banks  of  the  river  a  zinc  manufactory, 
which,  from  its  blackened  aspect  with  smoke  es- 
caping through  the  creviced  roofs,  appears  to  us 
as  if  a  fire  were  breaking  out,  or  like  a  house 
after  a  fire  has  been  nearly  extinguished.  By  the 
side  of  a  bean  field,  in  the  perfume  of  a  little 
garden,  a  brick  house  with  a  slate  turret,  the  vine 
clinging  to  its  walls,  doves  on  the  roof,  and  cages 
at  the  windows,  strikes  the  eye — we  then  think 
of  Teniers  and  Mieris. 

The  shades  of  evening  approached — the  wind 
ceased  blowing,  the  trees  rustling — and  nothing 
was  heard  but  the  rippling  of  the  water.  The 
lights  in  the  adjacent  houses  burnt  dimly,  and  all 
objects  were  becoming  obscured.  The  passen- 
gers yawned,  and  said,  "  We  shall  be  at  Liege  in 
an  hour."  At  this  moment  a  singular  sight  sud- 
denly presented  itself.  At  the  foot  of  the  hills, 
which  were  scarcely  perceptible,  two  round  balls 


*  The  Furnaces. 


of  fire  glared  like  the  eyes  of  tigers.  By  the 
roadside  was  a  frightful  dark  chimney  stalk,  sur- 
mounted by  a  huge  flame,  which  cast  a  sombre 
hue  upon  the  adjoining  rocks,  forests,  and  ravines. 
Nearer  the  entry  of  the  valley,  hidden  in  the 
shade,  was  a  mouth  of  live  coal,  which  suddenly 
opened  and  shut,  and,  in  the  midst  of  frightful 
noises,  spouted  forth  a  tongue  of  fire.  It  was  the 
lighting  of  the  furnaces. 

After  passing  the  place  called  Little  Flemalle, 
the  sight  was  inexpressible — was  truly  magnifi- 
cent. All  the  valley  seemed  to  be  in  a  state  of 
conflagration — smoke  issuing  from  this  place,  and 
flames  arising  from  that ;  in  fact,  we  could  im- 
agine that  a  hostile  army  had  ransacked  the 
country,  and  that  twenty  districts  presented,  in 
that  night  of  darkness,  all  the  aspects  and  phases 
of  a  conflagration — some  catching  fire,  some  en- 
veloped in  smoke,  and  others  surrounded  with 
flames. 

This  aspect  of  war  is  caused  by  peace — this 
frightful  symbol  of  devastation  is  the  effect  of 
industry.  The  furnaces  of  the  iron  works  of  Mr. 
Cockerill,  where  cannon  is  cast  of  the  largest 
calibre,  and  steam  engines  of  the  highest  power 
are  made,  alone  meet  the  eye. 

A  wild  and  violent  noise  comes  from  this  chaos 
of  industry,  I  had  the  curiosity  to  approach  one 
of  these  frightful  places,  and  I  could  not  help 


60  The  Rhine. 

admiring  the  assiduity  of  the  workmen.  It  was 
a  prodigious  spectacle,  to  which  the  solemnity  of 
the  hour  lent  a  supernatural  aspect.  Wheels, 
saws,  boilers,  cylinders,  scales — all  those  mon- 
strous implements  that  are  called  machines,  and 
to  which  steam  gives  a  frightful  and  noisy  life — 
rattle,  grind,  shriek,  hiss ;  and  at  times,  when  the 
blackened  workmen  thrust  the  hot  iron  into 
the  water,  a  moaning  sound  is  heard  like  that 
of  hydras  and  dragons  tormented  in  hell  by 
demons. 


Liege  is  one  of  those  old  towns  which  are  in 
a  fair  way  of  becoming  new — deplorable  trans- 
formation !  one  of  those  towns  where  things  of 
antiquity  are  disappearing,  leaving  in  their  places 
white  facades,  enriched  with  painted  statues ; 
where  the  good  old  buildings,  with  slated  roofs, 
skylight  windows,  chiming  bells,  belfries,  and 
weathercocks,  are  falling  into  decay,  while  gazed 
at  with  horror  by  some  thick-headed  citizen,  who 
is  busy  with  a  Constitutionnel,  reading  what  he 
does  not  understand,  yet  pompous  with  the  sup- 
posed knowledge  which  he  has  attained.  The 
Octroi,  a  Greek  temple,  represents  a  castle  flanked 
with  towers,  and  thick  set  with  pikes  ;  and  the 
long  stalks  of  the  furnaces  supply  the  place  of 
the  elegant  steeples  of  the  churches.  The  an- 


Liege.  61 

cient  city  was,  perhaps,  noisy  ;  the  modern  one 
is  productive  of  smoke. 

Liege  has  no  longer  the  enormous  cathedral  of 
the  princestvcques,  built  by  the  illustrious  Bishop 
Notger  in  the  year  1000,  and  demolished  in  1795 
by — no  one  can  tell  whom  ;  but  it  can  boast  of 
the  iron  works  of  Mr.  Cockerill. 

Neither  has  it  any  longer  the  convent  of  Do- 
minicans— sombre  cloister  of  high  fame !  noble 
edifice  of  fine  architecture  !  but  there  is  a  theater 
exactly  on  the  same  spot,  decorated  with  pillars 
and  brass  capitals,  where  operas  are  performed. 

Liege,  in  the  nineteenth  century,  is  what  it  was 
in  the  sixteenth.  It  vies  with  France  in  imple- 
ments of  war;  with  Versailles,  in  extravagance 
of  arms.  But  the  old  city  of  Saint  Hubert,  with 
its  church  and  fortress,  its  ecclesiastical  and  mili- 
tary commune,  has  ceased  to  be  a  city  of  prayer 
and  of  war ;  it  is  one  of  buying  and  selling — an 
immense  hive  of  industry.  It  has  been  trans- 
formed into  a  rich  commercial  center;  and  has 
put  one  of  its  arms  in  France,  the  other  in  Hol- 
land, and  is  incessantly  taking  from  the  one  and 
receiving  from  the  other. 

Everything  has  been  changed  in  this  city ; 
even  its  etymology  has  not  escaped.  The  ancient 
stream  Legia  bears  now  the  appellation  of  Ri- 
de-Coq  Fontaine. 

Notwithstanding,  we  must  admit  that  Liege  is 


62  The  Rhine. 


advantageously  situated  near  the  green  brow  of 
the  mountain  of  Sainte  Walburge ;  is  divided  by 
the  Meuse  into  the  lower  and  upper  towns ;  is 
interspersed  with  thirteen  bridges,  some  of  which 
have  rather  an  architectural  appearance ;  and  is 
surrounded  with  trees,  hills,  and  prairies.  It  has 
turrets,  clocks,  and  portes-donjons,  like  that  of 
Saint  Martin  and  Amerrcoeur,  to  excite  the  poet 
or  the  antiquary,  even  though  he  be  startled  with 
the  noise,  the  smoke,  and  the  flames  of  the  manu- 
factories around. 

As  it  rained  heavily,  I  only  visited  four 
churches : — Saint  Paul's,  the  actuelle  cathedral, 
is  a  noble  building  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
having  a  Gothic  cloister,  with  a  charm  ing  portail 
of  the  Renaissance,  and  surmounted  by  a  belfry, 
which,  had  it  not  been  that  some  inapt  architect 
of  our  day  spoiled  all  the  angles,  would  be  con- 
sidered elegant.  Saint  Jean  is  a  grave  facade  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  consisting  of  a  large 
square  steeple,  with  a  smaller  one  on  each  side. 
Saint  Hubert  is  rather  a  superior-looking  build- 
ing, whose  lower  galleries  are  of  an  excellent 
ordre.  Saint  Denis,  a  curious  church  of  the 
tenth  century,  with  a  large  steeple  of  the 
eleventh.  That  steeple  bears  traces  of  having 
been  injured  by  fire.  It  was  probably  burnt 
during  the  Norman  outbreak.  The  Roman  archi- 
tecture has  been  ingeniously  repaired,  and  the 


Liege.  63 

steeple  finished  in  brick.  This  is  perfectly  dis- 
cernible, and  has  a  most  singular  effect. 

As  I  was  going  from  Saint  Denis  to  Saint 
Hubert  by  a  labyrinth  of  old  narrow  streets, 
ornamented  here  and  there  with  madones,  I  sud- 
denly came  within  view  of  a  large  dark  stone 
wall,  and  on  close  observation  discovered  that 
the  back  facade  indicated  that  it  was  a  palace  of 
the  middle  age.  An  obscure  door  presented  it- 
self; I  entered,  and  at  the  expiration  of  a  few 
moments  found  myself  in  a  vast  yard,  which 
turned  out  to  be  that  of  the  palace  of  the  Eccle- 
siastic Princes  of  Liege.  The  ensemble  of  the 
architecture  is,  perhaps,  the  most  gloomy  and 
noble-looking  that  I  ever  saw. 

There  are  four  lofty  granite  facades,  sur- 
mounted by  four  prodigious  slate  roofs,  with  the 
same  number  of  galleries.  Two  of  the  facades, 
which  are  perfectly  entire,  present  the  admirable 
adjustment  of  ogives  and  arches  which  character- 
ized the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century  and  the 
beginning  of  the  sixteenth.  The  windows  of 
this  clerical  palace  have  meneaux  like  those  of  a 
church.  Unfortunately  the  two  other  facades, 
which  were  destroyed  by  fire  in  1734,  have  been 
rebuilt  in  the  pitiful  style  of  that  epoch,  and  tend 
to  detract  from  the  general  effect.  It  is  now  105 
years  since  the  last  bishop  occupied  this  fine 
structure. 


64  The  Rhine. 


The  quadruple  gallery  that  walls  the  yard  is 
admirably  preserved.  There  is  nothing  more 
pleasing  to  study  than  the  pillars  upon  which  the 
ogives  are  placed  :  they  are  of  gray  granite,  like 
the  rest  of  the  palace.  Whilst  examining  the  four 
rows,  one  half  of  the  shaft  of  the  pillar  disap- 
pears, sometimes  at  the  top,  then  at  the  bottom, 
under  a  rich  swelling  of  arabesques.  The  swelling 
is  doubled  in  the  west  range  of  the  pillars,  and 
the  stalk  disappears  entirely.  This  speaks  only 
of  the  Flemish  caprice  of  the  sixteenth  century ; 
but  what  perplexes  us  is,  that  the  chapiters  of 
these  pillars,  decorated  with  heads,  foliage, 
apocalyptical  figures,  dragons,  and  hieroglyphics, 
seem  to  belong  to  the  architecture  of  the 
eleventh  century;  and  it  must  be  remembered 
that  the  palace  of  Liege  was  commenced  in  1508, 
by  Prince  Erard  de  la  Mark,  who  reigned  thirty- 
two  years. 

This  grave  edifice  is  at  present  a  court  of 
justice ;  booksellers,  and  toy-merchants'  shops 
are  under  all  the  arches,  and  vegetable  stalls  in 
the  courtyard.  The  black  robes  of  the  law  prac- 
titioners are  seen  in  the  midst  of  baskets  of  red 
and  green  cabbages.  Groups  of  Flemish  mer- 
chants, some  merry,  others  morose,  make  fun 
and  quarrel  before  each  pillar ;  irritated  pleaders 
appear  from  all  the  windows ;  and  in  that  sombre 
yard,  formerly  solitary  and  tranquil  as  a  convent, 


Liege.  65 

of  which  it  has  the  appearance,  the  untired 
tongue  of  the  advocate  mingles  with  the  chatter, 
the  noise,  and  bavardage  of  the  buyers  and 
sellers. 

My  room  at  Liege  was  ornamented  with  muslin 
curtains,  upon  which  were  embroidered — not 
nosegays,  but  melons.  There  were  also  several 
pictures,  representing  the  triumph  of  the  Allies 
and  our  disasters  in  1814.  Behold  the  legende 
printed  at  the  bottom  of  one  of  these  paint- 
ings:— 

"Battle  of  Arcis-sur-Aube,  2ist  March,  1814 
The  greater  portion  of  the  garrison  of  this  place 
composed  of  the  garde  ancienne,  were  taken 
prisoners,  and  the  Allies,  on  the  22nd  of  April, 
triumphantly  entered  Paris." 


66  The  Rhine. 


CHAPTER      VIII. 

THE   BANKS   OF  THE  VESDRE. — VERVIERS. 
Railways. — Miners  at  Work. — Louis  the  Fourteenth. 

"\  7ESTERDAY  morning,  as  the  diligence  was 
j[  about  to  leave  Liege  for  Aix-la-Chapelle, 
a  worthy  citizen  annoyed  the  passengers  by  re- 
fusing to  take  the  seat  upon  the  impcriale  which 
the  conductor  pointed  out  as  his.  For  the  sake 
of  peace  I  offered  him  mine  ;  which  the  conde- 
scending traveler,  without  evincing  any  reluc- 
tance, or  even  thanking  me,  accepted,  and  the 
heavy  vehicle  forthwith  rolled  tardily  along.  I 
was  pleased  with  the  change.  The  road,  though 
no  longer  by  the  banks  of  the  Meuse,  but  by 
those  of  the  Vesdre,  is  exceedingly  beautiful. 

The  Vesdre  is  rapid,  and  runs  through  Verviers 
and  Chauffontaines,  along  the  most  charming 
valley  in  the  world.  In  August,  especially  if  the 
day  be  fine,  with  a  blue  sky  over  head,  we  have 
either  a  ravine  or  a  garden,  and  certainly  always 
a  paradise.  From  the  road  the  river  is  ever  in 
sight.  It  at  one  time  passes  through  a  pleasing 
village,  at  another  it  skirts  an  old  castle  with 
square  turrets  ;  there  the  country  suddenly 


Valley  of  the   Vesdrc.  67 

changes  its  aspect,  and,  on  turning  by  a  hillside, 
the  eye  discovers,  through  an  opening  in  a  thick 
tuft  of  trees,  a  low  house,  with  a  huge  wheel  by 
its  side.  It  is  a  water-mill. 

Between  Chauffontaines  and  Verviers  the  val- 
ley is  full  of  charms,  and,  the  weather  being  pro- 
pitious, added  much  to  enliven  the  scene.  Mar- 
mosets were  playing  upon  the  garden  steps  ;  the 
breeze  was  shaking  the  leaves  of  the  tall  poplars, 
and  sounded  like  the  music  of  peace,  the  har- 
mony of  nature  ;  handsome  heifers,  in  groups  of 
three  and  four,  were  reposing  on  the  greensward, 
shaded  by  leafy  blinds  from  the  rays  of  the  sun  ; 
then,  far  from  all  houses,  and  alone,  a  fine  cow, 
worthy  of  the  regard  of  Argus,  was  peacefully 
grazing.  The  soft  notes  of  a  flute  floating  on 
the  breeze  were  distinctly  heard. 

"  Mercuri us  septem  mulcet  arundinibus" 

The  railway — that  colossale  entreprise,  which 
runs  from  Anvers  to  Liege,  and  is  being  ex- 
tended to  Verviers  —  is  cut  through  the  solid 
rock,  and  runs  along  the  valley.  Here  we  meet 
a  bridge,  there  a  viaduct ;  and  at  times  we  see  in 
the  distance,  at  the  foot  of  an  immense  rock,  a 
group  of  dark  objects,  resembling  a  hiUock  of 
ants,  busily  blasting  the  solid  granite. 

These  ants,  small  though  they  be,  perform  the 
work  of  giants. 


63  The  Rhine. 

When  the  fissure  is  wide  and  deep,  a  strange 
sound  proceeds  from  the  interior;  in  fact,  one 
might  imagine  that  the  rock  is  making  known  its 
grievances  by  the  mouth  which  man  has  made. 

Verviers  is  an  insignificant  little  town,  divided 
into  three  quartiers,  called  Chick-Chack,  Brasse- 
Crotte,  and  Dardanelle.  In  passing,  I  observed 
a  little  urchin,  about  six  years  of  age,  who, 
seated  on  a  door-step,  was  smoking  his  pipe, 
with  all  the  magisterial  air  of  a  Grand  Turk. 
The  marmot  fumier  looked  into  my  face,  and 
burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter,  which  made  me  con- 
^clude  that  my  appearance  was  to  him  rather 
ridiculous. 

After  Verviers,  the  road  skirts  the  Vesdre  as 
far  as  Simbourg:  Simbourg — that  town  of  counts, 
that  patt  which  Louis  the  Fourteenth  found  had 
a  crust  rather  hard  for  mastication — is  at  present 
a  dismantled  fortress. 


Attractions  of  Aix-la-Chapelle.  69 

CHAPTER      IX. 

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE— THE  TOMB  OF  CHARLEMAGNE. 

Legend  of  the  Wolf  and  Pine-Apple. — Carlo-Magno. — Barber- 
ousse.  —  The  Untombing  of  Charlemagne.  —  Exhibition  of 
Relics.  —  Arm-chair  of  Charlemage.  —  The  Swiss  Guide. — 
Hotel-de-Ville,  the  Birthplace  of  Charlemagne. 

FOR  an  invalid,  Aix-la-Chapelle  is  a  mineral 
fountain — warm,  cold,  irony,  and  sulphur- 
ous ;  for  the  tourist,  it  is  a  place  for  redoubts  and 
concerts ;  for  the  pilgrim,  the  place  of  relics, 
where  the  gown  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  the  blood 
of  Jesus,  the  cloth  which  enveloped  the  head  of 
John  the  Baptist  after  his  decapitation,  are  ex- 
hibited every  seven  years  ;  for  the  antiquarian,  it 
is  a  noble  abbey  of  filles  a  abbesse,  connected 
with  the  male  convent,  which  was  built  by  Saint 
Gregory,  son  of  Nicephore,  Emperor  of  the  East  ; 
for  the  hunter,  it  is  the  ancient  valley  of  the 
wild  boars  ;  for  the  merchant,  it  is  a  fabrique  of 
cloth,  needles,  and  pins  ;  and  for  him  who  is  no 
merchant,  manufacturer,  hunter,  antiquary,  pil- 
grim, tourist,  or  invalid,  it  is  the  city  of  Charle- 
magne. 

Charlemagne  was  born  at  Aix-la-Chapelle,  and 
died  there.  He  was  born  in  the  old  place,  of 
which  there  now  only  remains  the  tower,  and  he 


70  The  Rhine. 


was  buried  in  the  church  that  he  founded  in  796, 
two  years  after  the  death  of  his  wife  Frastrada. 
Leon  the  Third  consecrated  it  in  804,  and 
tradition  says  that  two  bishops  of  Tongres,  who 
were  buried  at  Maestricht,  arose  from  their 
graves,  in  order  to  complete,  at  that  ceremony, 
365  bishops  and  archbishops— representing  the 
days  of  the  year. 

This  historical  and  legendary  church,  from 
which  the  town  has  taken  its  name,  has  under- 
gone, during  the  last  thousand  years,  many 
transformations. 

No  sooner  had  I  entered  Aix  than  I  went  to 
the  chapel. 

The  portail,  built  of  grey-blue  granite,  is  of 
the  time  of  Louis  the  Fifteenth,  with  doors  of 
the  eighth  century.  To  the  right  of  the  portail, 
a  large  bronze  ball,  like  a  pine-apple,  is  placed 
upon  a  granite  pillar;  and  on  the  opposite  side, 
on  another  pillar,  is  a  wolf,  of  the  same  metal, 
which  is  half  turned  towards  the  bystanders,  its 
mouth  half  open  and  its  teeth  displayed.  This 
is  the  legend  of  the  wolf  and  pine-apple,  daily 
recited  by  the  old  women  of  the  place  to  the  in- 
quiring traveler : — 

"  A  long  time  ago,  the  good  people  of  Aix-la- 
Chapelle  wished  to  build  a  church  :  money  was 
put  aside  for  the  purpose ;  the  foundation  was 
laid,  the  walls  were  built,  and  the  timber  work 


The  Wolf  and  the  Pine -Apple.  71 


was  commenced.  For  six  months  there  was 
nothing  heard  but  a  deafening  noise  of  saws, 
hammers,  and  axes;  but  at  the  expiration  of 
that  period  the  money  ran  short.  A  call  was 
made  upon  the  pilgrims  for  assistance,  and  a 
plate  was  placed  at  the  door  of  the  church,  but 
scarcely  a  Hard  was  collected.  What  was  to  be 
done?  The  senate  assembled,  and  proposed, 
argued,  advised,  and  consulted.  The  workmen 
refused  to  continue  their  labor.  The  grass,  the 
brambles,  the  ivy,  and  all  the  other  insolent 
weeds  which  surround  ruins,  clang  to  the  new 
stones  of  the  abandoned  edifice.  Was  there  no 
other  alternative  than  that  of  discontinuing  the 
church  ?  The  glorious  senate  of  burgomasters 
were  in  a  state  of  consternation. 

"  One  day,  in  the  midst  of  their  discussions,  a 
strange  man,  of  tall  stature  and  respectable  ap- 
pearance, entered. 

"  '  Good  day,  gentlemen.  What  is  the  subject 
of  discussion  ?  You  seem  bewildered.  Ah,  I 
suppose  your  church  weighs  heavy  at  your 
hearts.  You  do  not  know  how  to  finish  it. 
People  say  that  money  is  the  chief  requisite  for 
its  completion.' 

11 1  Stranger,'  said  one  of  the  senate,  *  allez 
vous  en  au  diable  f  It  would  take  a  million  of 
money.' 

"  '  There  is  a  million,'  said  the  unknown,  open- 


72  The  Rhine. 


ing  the  window,  and  pointing  to  a  chariot  drawn 
by  oxen,  and  guarded  by  twenty  negroes  armed 
to  the  teeth. 

"  One  of  the  burgomasters  went  with  the 
stranger  to  the  carriage,  took  the  first  sack  that 
came  to  his  hand,  then  both  returned.  It  was  laid 
before  the  senate,  and  found  to  be  full  of  gold. 

"  The  bourgomestres  looked  with  eyes  ex- 
pressive both  of  foolishness  and  surprise,  and 
demanded  of  the  stranger  who  he  was. 

"  '  My  dear  fellows,  I  am  the  man  who  has 
money  at  command.  What  more  do  you  require? 
I  inhabit  the  Black  Forest,  near  the  lake  of 
Wildsee,  and  not  far  from  the  ruins  of  Heiden- 
stadt,  the  city  of  Pagans.  I  possess  mines  of 
gold  and  silver,  and  at  night  I  handle  millions  of 
precious  stones.  But  I  have  strange  fancies — in 
fact,  I  am  unhappy,  a  melancholy  being,  passing 
my  days  in  gazing  into  the  transparent  lake, 
watching  the  tourniquet  and  the  water  tritons, 
and  observing  the  growth  of  the  polygonum  am- 
phibium  among  the  rocks.  But  a  truce  to  ques- 
tions and  idle  stories.  I  have  opened  my  heart 
• — profit  by  it!  There  is  your  million  of  money. 
Will  you  accept  it?  ' 

"  '  Pardieu,  ouij  said  the  senate.  {We  shall 
finish  our  church.' 

"  'Well,  it  is  yours,'  the  stranger  said;  'but 
remember,  there  is  a  condition.' 


The   Wolf  and  the  Pine -Apple.  73 

"  'What  is  it?' 

"  '  Finish  your  church,  gentlemen — take  all 
this  precious  metal ;  but  promise  me,  in  ex- 
change, the  first  soul  that  enters  into  the  church 
on  the  day  of  its  consecration.' 

"  'You  are  the  devil  !'  cried  the  senate. 

11  *  You  are  imbeciles,'  replied  Urian. 

"  The  burgomasters  began  to  cross  themselves, 
to  turn  pale,  and  tremble  ;  but  Urian,  who  was  a 
queer  fellow,  shook  the  bag  containing  the  gold, 
laughed  till  he  almost  split  his  sides,  and,  soon 
gaining  the  confidence  of  the  worthy  gentlemen, 
a  negotiation  took  place.  The  devil  is  a  clever 
fellow — that  is  the  reason  that  he  is  a  devil. 

"  'After  all,"  he  said,  "  I  am  the  one  who  shall 
lose  by  the  bargain.  You  shall  have  your  million 
and  your  church :  as  for  me,  I  shall  only  have  a 
soul.' 

'"Whose  soul,  Sir?'  demanded  the  frightened 
senate. 

"  '  The  first  that  comes — that,  perhaps,  of  some 
canting  hypocrite,  who  to  appear  devout,  and  to 
show  his  zeal  in  the  cause,  will  enter  first.  But, 
my  friends,  your  church  promises  well.  The 
plan  pleases  me  ;  and  the  edifice,  in  my  opinion, 
will  be  superb.  I  see  with  pleasure  that  your 
architect  prefers  the  trompe-sous-le-coin  to  that  of 
Montpellier.  I  do  not  dislike  the  arched  vault, 
but  still  I  would  have  preferred  a  ridged  one.  I 


74  The  Rhine. 


acknowledge  that  he  has  made  the  doorway  very 
tastefully :  but  I  am  not  sure  if  he  has  been  care- 
ful about  the  thickness  of  the  parpain.  What  is 
the  name  of  your  architect?  Tell  him  from  me, 
that,  to  make  a  door  well,  there  must  be  four 
panels.  Nevertheless,  the  church  is  of  a  very 
good  style,  and  well  adjusted.  It  would  be  a  pity 
to  leave  off  what  has  been  so  well  begun.  You 
must  finish  your  church.  Come,  my  friends;  the 
million  for  you — the  soul  for  me.  Is  it  not  so?' 

"'After  all/  thought  the  citizens,  'we  ought 
to  be  satisfied  that  he  contents  himself  with  one 
soul.  He  might,  if  he  observed  attentively,  find 
that  there  is  scarcely  one  in  the  whole  place  that 
does  not  belong  to  him.' 

"  The  bargain  was  concluded — the  million  was 
locked  up — Urian  disappeared  in  a  blue  flame — 
and  two  years  afterwards  the  church  was  fin- 
ished. 

"  You  must  know  that  all  the  senators  took  an 
oath  to  keep  the  transaction  a  profound  secret ; 
and  it  must  also  be  understood  that  each  of  them 
on  the  very  same  evening  related  the  affair  to 
his  wife.  When  the  church  was  complete,  the 
whole  town — thanks  to  the  wives  of  the  senators 
— knew  the  secret  of  the  senate;  and  no  one 
would  enter  the  church.  This  was  an  embarrass- 
ment greater  even  than  the  first :  the  church  was 
erected,  but  no  one  would  enter;  it  was  finished, 


The   Wolf  and  the  Pine-Apple.  75 


but  it  was  empty.  What  good  was  a  church  of 
this  description  ? 

"The  senate  assembled,  but  they  could  do 
nothing;  and  they  called  upon  the  Bishop  of 
Tongres,  but  he  was  equally  puzzled.  The 
canons  of  the  church  were  consulted  ;  but  to  no 
avail.  At  last  the  monks  were  brought  in. 

"  '  Pardien  !  '  said  one  of  them  ;  'you  seem  to 
stand  on  trifles ;  you  owe  Urian  the  first  soul 
that  passes  the  door  of  the  church  ;  but  he  did 
not  stipulate  as  to  the  kind  of  soul.  I  assure 
you  this  Urian  is  at  the  best  an  ass.  Gen- 
tlemen, after  a  severe  struggle,  a  wolf  was  taken 
alive  in  the  valley  of  Borcette.  Make  it  enter 
the  church.  Urian  must  be  contented  ;  he  shall 
have  a  soul,  although  only  that  of  a  wolf.' 

"  *  Bravo  !  bravo  ! '  shouted  the  senate. 

"At  the  dawn  of  the  following  day  the  bells 
rang. 

"'What!'  cried  the  inhabitants— '  to-day  is 
the  consecration  of  the  church,  but  who  will  dare 
to  enter  first  ?' 

"  I  won't ! '  shouted  one.  '  Nor  I !'— '  Nor  I !' 
escaped  from  the  lips  of  the  others. 

"  At  last  the  senate  and  the  chapitre  arrived, 
followed  by  men  carrying  the  wolf  in  a  cage.  A 
signal  was  given  to  open  the  door  of  the  church 
and  that  of  the  cage  simultaneously;  the  wolf, 
half  mad  from  fright,  rushed  into  the  empty 


;6  The  Rhine. 


church,  where  Urian  was  waiting,  his  mouth 
open,  and  his  eyes  shut.  Judge  of  his  rage  when 
he  discovered  that  he  had  swallowed  a  wolf. 
He  shouted  tremendously,  flew  for  some  time 
under  the  high  arches,  making  a  noise  like  a 
tempest,  and,  on  going  out,  gave  the  door  a 
furious  kick,  and  rent  it  from  top  to  bottom." 

It  is  upon  that  account,  say  the  old  dames, 
that  a  statue  of  the  wolf  has  been  placed  on  the 
left  side  of  the  church,  and  an  apple,  which  rep- 
resents its  poor  soul,  on  the  right. 

I  must  add,  before  finishing  the  legend,  that  I 
looked  for  the  rent  made  by  the  heel  of  the  devil, 
but  could  not  find  it. 

On  approaching  the  chapel  of  the  great  portail 
the  effect  is  not  striking  ;  the  facade  displays  the 
different  styles  of  architecture — Roman,  Gothic, 
and  modern, — without  order,  and  consequently, 
without  grandeur ;  but  if,  on  the  contrary,  we 
arrive  at  the  chapel  by  Chevet,  the  result  is 
otherwise.  The  high  abside  of  the  fourteenth 
century,  in  all  its  boldness  and  beauty,  the  rich 
workmanship  of  its  balustrades,  the  variety^ of 
iis  gargouilles,  the  sombre  hue  of  the  stones,  and 
the  large,  transparent  windows — strike  the  be- 
holder with  admiration. 

Here,  nevertheless,  the  aspect  of  the  church 
— imposing  though  it  is — will  be  found  far  from 
uniform.  Between  the  abside  and  the  portail,  in 


Tomb  of  Charlemagne.  77 


a  kind  of  cavity,  the  dome  of  Otho  III.,  built 
over  the  tomb  of  Charlemagne  in  the  tenth 
century,  is  hid  from  view.  After  a  few  moments' 
contemplation,  a  singular  awe  comes  over  us 
when  gazing  at  this  extraordinary  edifice — an 
edifice  which,  like  the  great  work  that  Charle- 
magne began,  remains  unfinished ;  and  which, 
like  his  empire  that  spoke  all  languages,  is  com- 
posed of  architecture  that  represents  all  styles. 
To  the  reflective,  there  is  a  strange  analogy  be- 
tween that  wonderful  man  and  this  great  build- 
ing. 

After  having  passed  the  arched  roof  of  the 
portico,  and  left  behind  me  the  antique  bronze 
doors  surmounted  with  lions'  heads,  a  white 
rotundo  of  two  stories,  in  which  all  thefantatsus 
of  architecture  are  displayed,  attracted  my  atten- 
tion. At  casting  my  eyes  upon  the  ground,  I 
perceived  a  large  block  of  black  marble,  with  the 
following  inscription  in  brass  letters: — 

"CAROLO  MAGNO." 

Nothing  is  more  contemptible  than  to  see,  ex- 
posed to  view,  the  bastard  graces  that  surround 
this  great  Carlovingian  name;  angels  resembling 
distorted  Cupids,  palm-branches  like  colored 
feathers,  garlands  of  flowers,  and  knots  of  rib- 
bons, are  placed  under  the  dome  of  Otho  III., 
and  upon  the  tomb  of  Charlemagne. 


78  The  Rhine. 


The  only  thing  here  that  evinces  respect  to 
the  shade  of  that  great  man  is  an  immense  lamp, 
twelve  feet  in  diameter,  with  forty-eight  burners ; 
which  was  presented,  in  the  twelfth  century,  by 
Barberousse.  It  is  of  brass,  gilt  with  gold,  has 
the  form  of  a  crown,  and  is  suspended  from  the 
ceiling  above  the  marble  stone  by  an  iron  chain 
about  seventy  feet  in  length. 

It  is  evident  that  some  other  monument  had 
been  erected  to  Charlemagne.  There  is  nothing 
to  convince  us  that  this  marble,  bordered  with 
brass,  is  of  antiquity.  As  to  the  letters,  "  CAROLO 
MAGNO,"  they  are  not  of  a  later  date  than  1730. 

Charlemagne  is  no  longer  under  this  stone. 
In  1166  Frederick  Barberousse — whose  gift,  mag- 
nificent though  it  was,  does  by  no  means  com- 
pensate for  this  sacrilege — caused  the  remains  of 
that  great  emperor  to  be  untombed.  The  Church 
claimed  the  imperial  skeleton,  and,  separating 
the  bones,  made  each  a  holy  relic.  In  the  adjoin- 
ing sacristy,  a  vicar  shows  the  people — for  three 
francs  seventy-five  centimes — the  fixed  price— 
the  arm  of  Charlemagne — that  arm  which  held 
for  a  time  the  reins  of  the  world.  Venerable 
relic  !  which  has  the  following  inscription,  written 
by  some  scribe  of  the  twelfth  century : 

1  Brachium  Sancti  Carol!  Magni." 

After  that    I    saw   the  skull   of  Charlemagne, 


Relics  of  Charlemagne.  79 


that  cranium  which  may  be  said  to  have  been 
the  mould  of  Europe,  and  which  a  beadle  had 
the  effrontery  to  strike  with  his  finger. 

All  are  kept  in  a  wooden  armory,  with  a  few 
angels,  similar  to  those  I  have  just  mentioned,  on 
the  top.  Such  is  the  tomb  of  the  man  whose 
memory  has  outlived  ten  ages,  and  who,  by  his 
greatness,  has  shed  the  rays  of  immortality 
around  his  name.  Sanctus,  magnus,  belong  to 
him — two  of  the  most  august  epithets  which  this 
earth  could  bestow  upon  a  human  being. 

There  is  one  thing  astonishing — that  is,  the 
largeness  of  the  skull  and  arm.  Charlemagne 
was,  in  fact,  colossal  with  respect  to  size  of  body 
as  well  as  extraordinary  mental  endowments. 
The  son  of  Pepin-le-Bref  was  in  body,  as  in  mind, 
gigantic ;  of  great  corporeal  strength,  and  of 
astounding  intellect. 

An  inspection  of  this  armory  has  a  strange 
effect  upon  the  antiquary.  Besides  the  skull  and 
arm,  it  contains  the  heart  of  Charlemagne ;  the 
cross  which  the  emperor  had  round  his  neck  in 
his  tomb  ;  a  handsome  ostensoir,  of  the  Renais- 
sance, given  by  Charles  the  Fifth,  and  spoiled,  in 
the  last  century,  by  tasteless  ornaments ;  fourteen 
richly  sculptured  gold  plates,  which  once  orna- 
mented the  arm-chair  of  the  emperor;  an 
ostensoir,  given  Philippe  the  Second  ;  the  cord 
which  bound  our  Saviour;  the  sponge  that  was 


8o  The  Rhine. 


used  upon  the  cross ;  the  girdle  of  the  Holy 
Virgin,  and  that  of  the  Redeemer. 

In  the  midst  of  innumerable  ornaments,  heaped 
up  in  the  armory  like  mountains  of  gold  and 
precious  stones,  are  two  shrines  of  singular 
beauty.  One,  the  oldest,  which  is  seldom  opened, 
contains  the  remaining  bones  of  Charlemagne, 
and  the  other,  of  the  twelfth  century,  which 
Frederick  Barberousse  gave  to  the  church,  holds 
the  relics,  which  are  exhibited  every  seven  years. 
A  single  exhibition  of  this  shrine,  in  1696,  at- 
tracted 42,000  pilgrims,  and  drew,  in  ten  days, 
80,000  florins. 

This  shrine  has  only  one  key,  which  is  in  t-vo 
pieces ;  the  one  is  in  the  possession  of  the 
chapitre,  the  other  in  that  of  the  magistrates  of 
the  town.  Sometimes  it  is  opened  on  extra- 
ordinary occasions,  such  as  on  the  visit  of  a 
monarch. 

In  a  small  armory,  adjoining  the  one  men- 
tioned, I  saw  an  exact  imitation  of  the  Germanic 
crown  of  Charlemagne.  That  which  he  wore  as 
Emperor  of  Germany  is  at  Vienna;  the  one  as 
King  of  France,  at  Rheims  ;  and  the  other,  as 
King  of  Lombardy,  is  at  Menza,  near  Milan. 

On  going  out  of  the  sacristy,  the  beadle  gave 
orders  to  one  of  the  menials,  a  Swiss,  to  show  me 
the  interior  of  the  chapel.  The  first  object  that 
fixed  my  attention  was  the  pulpit,  presented  by 


Tomb  of  Charlemagne* 


the  Emperor  Henry  the  Second,  which  is  ex- 
travagantly ornamented  and  gilt,  in  the  style  of 
the  eleventh  century.  To  the  right  of  the  altar, 
the  heart  of  M.  Antoine  Berdolet,  the  first  and 
last  Bishop  of  Aux-la-Chapelle,  is  encased.  That 
church  had  but  one  Bishop  —  he  whom  Buona- 
parte named  "Primus  Aquisgranensis  Episcopus" 

In  a  dark  room  in  the  chapel,  my  conductor 
opened  another  armory,  which  contained  the  sar- 
cophagus of  Charlemagne.  It  is  a  magnificent 
coffin  of  white  marble,  upon  which  the  carrying 
off  of  Proserpine  is  sculptured.  The  fair  girl  is 
represented  as  making  desperate  efforts  to  disen- 
tangle herself  from  the  grasp  of  Pluto,  but  the 
god  has  seized  her  half-naked  neck,  and  is  forcing 
her  head  against  Minerva.  Some  of  the  nymphs, 
the  attendants  of  Proserpine,  are  in  eager  combat 
with  Furies,  while  others  are  endeavoring  to 
stop  the  car,  which  is  drawn  by  two  dragons.  A 
goddess  has  boldly  seized  one  of  them  by  the 
wing,  and  the  animal,  to  all  appearance,  is  crying 
hideously.  This  bas-relief  is  a  poem,  powerful 
and  startling  —  like  the  pictures  of  Pagan  Rome, 
and  like  some  of  those  of  Rubens. 

The  tomb,  before  it  became  the  sarcophagus 
of  Charlemagne,  was,  it  is  said,  that  of  Augustus. 

After  mounting  a  narrow  staircase,  my  guide 
conducted  me  to  a  gallery  which  is  called  the 
Hochmunster.  In  this  place  is  the  arm-chair  of 

4* 


The  Rhine. 


Charlemagne.  It  is  low,  exceedingly  wide,  with 
a  round  back  ;  is  formed  of  four  pieces  of  white 
marble,  without  ornaments  or  sculpture,  and  has 
for  a  seat  an  oak  board,  covered  with  a  cushion 
of  red  velvet.  There  are  six  steps  up  to  it,  two 
of  which  are  of  granite,  the  others  of  marble. 
On  this  chair  sat — a  crown  upon  his  head,  a 
globe  in  one  hand,  a  sceptre  in  the  other,  a 
sword  by  his  side,  the  imperial  mantle  over  his 
shoulders,  the  cross  of  Christ  round  his  neck,  and 
his  feet  in  the  sarcophagus  of  Augustus, — Carlo 
Magno  in  his  tomb,  in  which  attitude  he  re- 
mained for  three  hundred  and  fifty-two  years — 
from  852  to  1166,  when  Frederick  Barberousse, 
coveting  the  chair  for  his  coronation,  entered  the 
tomb.  Barberousse  was  an  illustrious  prince  and 
a  valiant  soldier ;  and  it  must,  therefore,  have 
been  a  moment  singularly  strange  when  this 
crowned  man  stood  before  the  crowned  corpse 
of  Charlemagne — the  one  in  all  the  majesty  of 
empire,  the  other  in  all  the  majesty  of  death. 
The  soldier  overcame  the  shades  of  greatness  ; 
the  living  became  the  despoliator  of  inanimate 
worth.  The  chapel  claimed  the  skeleton,  and 
Barberousse  the  marble  chair,  which  afterwards 
became  the  throne  where  thirty-six  emperors 
were  crowned.  Ferdinand  the  First  was  the  last  ; 
Charles  the  Fifth  preceded  him.  The  German 
emperors  are  now  crowned  at  Frankfort. 


Frederick  BarterouSM.  83 


I  remained  spell-bound  near  this  chair,  so  sim- 
ple, yet  so  grand.  I  gazed  upon  the  marble 
steps,  marked  by  the  feet  of  those  thirty-six 
Caesars  who  had  here  seen  the  bursting  forth 
of  their  illustriousness,  and  who,  each  in  his 
turn,  had  ceased  to  be  of  the  living.  Thoughts 
started  in  my  mind,  recollections  flashed  across 
my  memory.  When  Frederick  Barberousse  was 
old,  he  determined  for  the  second  or  third  time 
to  engage  in  the  Holy  War.  One  day  he 
reached  the  banks  of  the  beautiful  river  Cyd- 
nus,  and,  being  warm,  took  a  fancy  to  bathe. 
The  man  who  could  profane  the  tomb  of 
Charlemagne  might  well  forget  Alexander.  He 
entered  the  river ;  the  cold  seized  him.  Alex- 
ander was  young,  and  survived  ;  Barberousse 
was  old,  and  lost  his  life. 

It  appears  to  me  as  probable,  that,  one  day  or 
another,  the  pious  thought  will  strike  some  saint, 
king,  or  emperor,  to  take  the  remains  of  Charle- 
magne from  the  armory  where  the  sacristans 
have  placed  them — gathered  all  that  still  exists 
of  that  great  skeleton — and  place  them  once 
more  in  the  arm-chair,  the  Carlovingian  diadem 
upon  the  skull,  the  globe  of  the  empire  on  the 
arm,  and  the  imperial  mantle  over  the  bones. 

This  would  be  a  magnificent  sight  for  him  who 
dared  to  look  at  the  apparition.  What  thoughts 
would  crowd  upon  his  mind  when  beholding  the 


84  The  Rhine. 


son  of  Pepin  in  his  tomb — he,  who  equalled  in 
greatness  Augustus  or  Sesostris:  he,  who  in 
fiction,  is  a  knight-errant,  like  Roland — a  ma- 
gician, like  Merlin  ;  for  religion,  a  saint,  like 
Peter  or  Jerome ;  for  philosophy,  civilization 
personifies  him,  and  every  thousand  years  as- 
sumes a  giant  form  to  traverse  some  profound 
abyss — civil  wars,  barbarism,  revolutions ;  which 
calls  himself  at  one  time  Csesar,  then  Charle- 
magne, and  at  another  time  Napoleon. 

In  1804,  when  Buonaparte  became  known  as 
Napoleon,  he  visited  Aix-la-Chapelle.  Josephine, 
who  accompanied  him,  had  the  caprice  to  sit 
down  on  this  chair;  but  Napoleon,  out  of  respect 
for  Charlemagne,  took  off  his  hat,  and  remained 
for  some  time  standing,  and  in  silence.  The  fol- 
lowing fact  is  somewhat  remarkable,  and  struck 
me  forcibly:— In  814  Charlemagne  died;  a  thou- 
sand years  afterwards,  most  probably  about  the 
same  hour,  Napoleon  fell. 

In  that  fatal  year,  1814,  the  allied  sovereigns 
visited  the  tomb  of  the  great  Carolo.  Alexander 
of  Russia,  like  Napoleon,  took  off  his  hat  and 
uniform  ;  Frederick  William  of  Prussia  kept  on 
his  casquette  de  petite  tenue ;  Francis  retained  his 
surtout  and  round  bonnet.  The  King  of  Prussia 
stood  upon  the  marble  steps,  receiving  informa- 
tion from  the  prevot  of  the  chapitre  respecting 
the  coronation  of  the  emperors  of  Germany ; 


The  Swiss  Guide.  85 

the  two  emperors  remained  silent.  Napoleon, 
Josephine,  Alexander,  Frederick  William,  and 
Francis,  are  now  no  more. 

My  guide,  who  gave  me  these  details,  was  an 
old  French  soldier.  Formerly  he  shouldered  his 
musket,  and  marched  at  the  sound  of  the  drum  ; 
now,  he  carries  a  halberd  in  the  clerical  cere- 
monies before  the  chapitre.  This  man,  who 
speaks  to  travelers  of  Charlemagne,  has  Napoleon 
nearest  his  heart.  When  he  spoke  of  the  battles 
in  which  he  had  fought,  of  his  old  comrades,  and 
of  his  colonel,  the  tears  streamed  from  his  eyes. 
He  knew  that  I  was  a  Frenchman;  and,  on  my 
leaving,  said,  with  a  solemnity  which  I  shall 
never  forget — 

"You  can  say,  Sir,  that  you  saw  at  Aix-la- 
Chapelle  an  old  soldier  of  the  36th  Swiss  regi- 
ment." 

Then,  a  moment  afterwards,  added — 

"  You  can  also  state  that  he  belongs  to  three 
nations — Prussian  by  birth  ;  Swiss  by  profession  ; 
but  his  whole  heart  is  French." 

On  quitting  the  chapel  I  was  so  much  absorbed, 
in  reflection,  that  I  all  but  passed  a  lovely  facade 
of  the  fourteenth  century,  ornamented  with  the 
statues  of  seven  emperors.  I  was  awoke  from  my 
reverie  by  the  sudden  bursts  of  laughter  which 
escaped  from  two  travelers,  the  elder  of  whom,  I 
was  told  in  the  morning  by  my  landlord,  was 


86  The  KJiint. 

M.  le  Comte  d'A.,  of  the  most  noble  family  of 
Artois. 

"  Here  are  names!  "  they  cried.  "  It  certainly 
required  a  revolution  to  form  such  names  as 
these.  Le  Capitaine  Lasoupe,  and  Colonel  Grain- 
dorge." 

My  poor  Swiss  had  spoken  to  them,  as  he  did 
to  me,  about  his  old  captain  and  colonel,  for  they 
were  so  called. 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  I  was  on  my  way  to 
the  Hotel-de-Ville,  the  supposed  birthplace  of 
Charlemagne,  which,  like  the  chapel,  is  an  edifice 
made  of  five  or  six  others.  In  the  middle  of  the 
court  there  is  a  fountain  of  great  antiquity,  with 
a  bronze  statue  of  Charlemagne.  To  the  left  and 
right  are  two  others — both  surmounted  with 
eagles,  their  heads  half  turned  towards  the  grave 
and  tranquil  emperor. 

The  evening  was  approaching.  I  had  passed 
the  whole  of  the  day  among  these  grand  and 
austere  souvenirs;  and,  therefore,  deemed  it 
essential  to  take  a  walk  in  the  open  fields,  to 
breathe  the  fresh  air,  and  to  watch  the  rays  of 
the  declining  sun.  I  wandered  along  some 
dilapidated  walls,  entered  a  field,  then  some 
beautiful  alleys,  in  one  of  which  I  seated  myself. 
Aix-la-Chapelle  lay  extended  before  me,  partly 
hid  by  the  shades  of  evening,  which  were  falling 
around.  By  degrees  the  fogs  gained  the  roofs 


t-lotcUc-Vilte.  87 


of  the  houses,  and  shrouded  the  town  steeples; 
then  nothing  was  seen  but  two  huge  masses — the 
Hotel-de-Ville  and  the  chapel.  All  the  emotions, 
all  the  thoughts  and  visions  which  flitted  across 
my  mind  during  the  day,  now  crowded  upon  me. 
The  first  of  the  two  dark  objects  was  to  me  only 
the  birthplace  of  a  child ;  the  second  was  the 
resting-place  of  greatness.  At  intervals,  in  the 
midst  of  my  reverie,  I  imagined  that  I  saw  the 
shade  of  this  giant,  whom  we  call  Charlemagne, 
developing  itself  between  this  great  cradle  and 
still  greater  tomb. 


88  The  Rhine. 


CHAPTER      X. 

COLOGNE— THE   BANKS  OF  THE    RHINE — ANDER- 
NACH. 

Duez. — Cathedral  of  Cologne. — The  Peasantry. — The  Strolling 
Musician. — Personifiers  of  the  gods  Goulu,  Gluton,  Gonifre, 
and  Gouliaf. — Dome  of  the  Cathedral  of  Cologne. — Epitaph. 
— Tomb  of  the  Three  Wise  Men  of  the  East. — Destiny. — 
The  Hotel-de-Ville.  — The  Three  Bas-Reliefs.  —  The  Epic 
Poet  of  Cologne. — Cologne  at  Night. — Time  and  its  Effects. 

THE  sun  had  set  when  we  reached  Cologne. 
I  gave  my  luggage  to  a  porter,  with  or- 
ders to  carry  it  to  an  hotel  at  Uuez,  a  little  town 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Rhine  ;  and  directed 
my  steps  towards  the  cathedral.  Rather  than 
ask  my  way,  I  wandered  up  and  down  the  nar- 
row streets,  which  night  had  all  but  obscured. 
At  last  I  entered  a  gateway  leading  to  a  court, 
and  came  out  on  an  open  square — dark  and  de- 
serted. A  magnificent  spectacle  now  presented 
itself.  Before  me,  in  the  fantastic  light  of  a 
crtpusculaire  sky,  rose,  in  the  midst  of  a  group 
of  low  houses,  an  enormous  black  mass,  studded 
with  pinnacles  and  belfries.  A  little  farther  was 
another,  not  quite  so  broad  as  the  first,  but 
higher;  a  kind  of  square  fortress,  flanked  at  its 
angles  with  four  long  detached  towers,  having 


Cologne  Cathedral.  89 


on  its  summit  something  resembling  a  huge 
feather.  On  approaching,  I  discovered  that  it 
was  the  cathedral  of  Cologne. 

What  appeared  like  a  large  feather  was  a 
crane,  to  which  sheets  of  lead  were  appended, 
and  which,  from  its  workable  appearance,  in- 
dicated to  passers-by  that  this  unfinished  tem- 
ple may  one  day  be  completed ;  that  the  dream 
of  Engelbert  de  Berg,  which  was  realized  under 
Conrad  de  Hochsteden,  may,  in  an  age  or  two, 
be  the  greatest  cathedral  in  the  world.  This 
incomplete  Iliad  sees  Homers  in  futurity. 

The  church  was  shut.  I  surveyed  the  steeples, 
and  was  startled  at  their  dimensions.  What  I 
had  taken  for  towers  are  the  projections  of  the 
buttresses.  Though  only  the  first  story  is  com- 
pleted, the  building  is  already  nearly  as  high  as 
the  towers  of  Notre  Dame  at  Paris.  Should 
the  spire,  according  to  the  plan,  be  placed  upon 
this  monstrous  trunk,  Strasburg  would  be,  com- 
paratively speaking,  small  by  its  side.  It  has 
always  struck  me  that  nothing  resembles  ruin 
more  than  an  unfinished  edifice.  Briars,  saxi- 
frages, and  pellitories— indeed,  all  weeds  that 
root  themselves  in  the  crevices  and  at  the  base 
of  old  buildings  —  have  besieged  these  vener- 
able walls.  Man  only  constructs  what  Nature 
in  time  destroys. 

All   was   quiet ;    there   was   no    one    near    to 


go  The  Rhine. 


break  the  prevailing  silence.  I  approached  the 
facade,  as  near  as  the  gate  would  permit  me, 
and  heard  the  countless  shrubs  gently  rustling 
in  the  night  breeze.  A  light  which  appeared 
at  a  neighboring  window,  cast  its  rays  upon  a 
group  of  exquisite  statues —angels  and  saints, 
reading  or  preaching,  with  a  large  open  book 
before  them.  Admirable  prologue  for  a  church, 
which  is  nothing  else  than  the  Word  made 
marble,  brass  or  stone !  Swallows  have  fear- 
lessly taken  up  their  abode  here,  and  their  sim- 
ple yet  curious  masonry  contrasts  strangely  with 
the  architecture  of  the  building. 

This  was  my  first  visit  to  the  cathedral  of 
Cologne. 

By-the-by,  I  have  told  nothing  of  the  road 
between  it  and  Aix-la-Chapelle.  In  fact,  very 
little  can  be  said  ;  —  a  green  plain,  with  an 
occasional  oak  and  a  few  poplar- trees,  alone 
meet  the  eye.  In  the  villages,  the  old  female 
peasants,  enveloped  in  long  mantles,  walk  about 
like  spectres  ;  while  the  young,  clothed  in  short 
japons,  are  seen  on  their  knees,  washing  the 
door-steps.  As  for  the  men,  they  are  decorated 
with  blue  smock-frocks  and  high-crowned  hats, 
as  if  they  were  the  peasants  of  a  constitutional 
country. 

Scarcely  a  single  person  was  seen  on  the 
road  ;  the  inclemency  of  the  weather  was,  per- 


Cologne  Cathedral.  91 

haps,  the  cause.  A  poor  strolling  musician 
passed  —  a  stick  in  one  hand,  and  his  cornet- 
a-piston  in  the  other.  He  was  clothed  in  a 
blue  coat,  a  fancy  waistcoat,  and  white  trous- 
ers, with  bottoms  turned  up  as  high  as  the 
legs  of  his  boots.  The  pauvre  diable,  from 
the  knees  upwards,  was  fitted  out  for  a  ball ; 
his  lower  extremities,  however,  were  better 
suited  for  the  road.  In  a  little  square  village, 
in  front  of  an  auberge,  I  admired  four  jolly- 
looking  travelers  seated  before  a  table  loaded 
with  flesh,  fish  and  wines.  One  was  drinking, 
another  cutting,  a  third  eating,  a  fourth  de- 
vouring— like  four  personifications  of  Voracious- 
ness and  Gourmandism.  It  seemed  to  me  as 
if  I  beheld  the  gods  Goulu,  Glouton,  Gonifre. 
and  Gouliaf,  seated  round  a  mountain  of  eat- 
ables. 

The  following  morning  I  again  visited  the 
dome  of  the  cathedral  of  Cologne.  I  exam- 
ined the  windows  of  this  magnificent  edifice, 
which  are  of  the  time  of  Maximilian,  painted 
with  all  the  extravagance  of  the  German  Re- 
naissance. On  one  of  them  is  a  representation 
of  the  genealogy  of  the  Holy  Virgin.  At  the 
bottom  of  the  picture,  Adam,  in  the  costume 
of  an  emperor,  is  lying  upon  his  back.  A  large 
tree,  which  fills  the  whole  pane,  is  growing  out 
of  his  stomach,  and  on  the  branches  appear  all 


92  T/ie  Rhine. 

the  crowned  ancestors  of  Mary :  David  play- 
ing the  harp,  Solomon  in  pensiveness ;  and  at 
the  top  of  the  tree  a  flower  opens,  and  dis- 
closes the  Virgin  carrying  the  infant  Jesus. 

A  few  steps  farther  on    I    read    this   epitaph, 
which  breathes  sorrow  and  resignation  : 

"  Inclitvs  ante  fvi  comes  emvndvs, 
Vocitatvs,  hie  dece  prostratvs,  sub 
Tegor  vt  volvi.  Frishem,  sancte, 
Mevm  fero,  petre,  tibi  comitatvm 
Et  mihi  redde  statvm,  te  precor, 
Etherevm  Haec.  Lapidvm  massa 
Comitis  complectitvr  ossa." 

I  entered  the  church  and  was  struck  with  the 
choir.  There  are  pictures  of  all  epochs  and 
of  all  forms ;  innumerable  marble  statues  of 
bishops ;  chevaliers  of  the  time  of  the  cru- 
sades, their  dogs  lying  lovingly  at  their  feet  ; 
apostles  clothed  in  golden  robes ;  and  tapes- 
tries painted  from  the  designs  of  Rubens. 
Everything,  it  must  be  said,  is  shamefully  de- 
molished. If  some  one  constructed  the  exte- 
rior of  the  cathedral  of  Cologne,  I  do  not 
know  who  has  demolished  the  interior.  There 
is  not  a  tomb  entire,  the  figures  being  either 
broken  off  or  mutilated.  The  flies  revel  on 
the  venerable  face  of  the  Archbishop  Philip  of 
Heinsburg,  and  the  man  called  Conrad  of 
Hochsteden,  the  founder  of  the  church,  like 
Gulliver,  in  the  Lilliputian  tale,  cannot  at 


Tomb  of  the  Wise  Men.  93 


present  crush  the  spiders  that  knit  him  to  the 
ground.  Alas!  the  bronze  arm  is  nothing  to 
the  arm  of  flesh.  I  observed,  in  an  obscure 
corner,  the  dismantled  statue  of  an  old  man 
with  a  long  beard ;  I  believe  it  is  that  of 
Michael  Angelo. 

I  will  now  mention  the  most  venerable  struc- 
ture which  this  church  contains :  that  of  the 
famed  tomb  of  the  Three  Wise  Men  of  the 
East. 

The  room  is  of  marble,  is  rather  large,  and 
represents  the  styles  of  Louis  the  Thirteenth 
and  Louis  the  Fourteenth.  On  raising  our 
eyes,  we  perceive  a  bas-relief  representing  the 
adoration  of  the  three  kings,  and,  underneath, 
the  inscription  : 

"  Corpora  ranctorum  recubant  hie  terna  magorum, 
Ex  his  sublatum  nihil  est  alibive  locatum." 

This,  then,  is  the  resting  place  of  the  three 
poetic  kings  of  the  east.  Indeed,  there  is  no 
legend  that  pleases  me  so  much  as  this  of  the 
Mille  et  Une  Nuits.  I  approached  the  tomb, 
and  perceived,  in  the  shade,  a  massive  reli- 
quaire,  sparkling  with  pearls,  diamonds,  and 
other  precious  stones,  which  seemed  to  relate 
the  history  of  these  three  kings,  ab  oriente 
venerunt.  In  front  of  the  tomb  are  three 
lamps,  the  one  bearing  the  name  of  Gasper, 


94  The  Rhine. 


the  other  Melchior,  and  the  third  Balthazar. 
It  is  an  ingenious  idea  to  have  —  somehow 
illuminated  —  the  names  of  the  three  wise  men 
in  front  of  the  sepulchre. 

On  leaving,  something  pierced  the  sole  of 
my  boot.  I  looked  downwards,  and  found  that 
it  was  a  large  nail  projecting  from  a  square  of 
black  marble,  upon  which  I  was  walking.  After 
examining  the  stone,  I  remembered  that  Mary 
of  Medicis  had  desired  that  her  heart  should 
be  placed  under  the  pavement  of  the  cathe- 
dral of  Cologne,  and  before  the  tomb  of  the 
three  kings.  Formerly  a  bronze  or  brass  plate, 
with  an  inscription,  covered  it  ;  but  when  the 
French  took  Cologne,  some  revolutionist,  or 
perhaps  a  rapacious  brazier,  seized  it,  as  had 
been  done  by  many  others  ;  for  a  host  of  brass 
nails,  projecting  from  the  marble,  bespeak  dep- 
redations of  a  similar  nature.  Alas,  poor  queen  ! 
She  first  saw  herself  effaced  from  the  heart  of 
Louis  the  Thirteenth,  her  son  ;  then  from  the 
remembrance  of  Richelieu,  her  creature ;  and 
now  she  is  effaced  from  the  earth. 

How  strange  are  the  freaks  of  destiny  !  Mary 
de  Medicis,  widow  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  ex- 
iled and  abandoned,  had  a  daughter,  Henriette, 
widow  of  Charles  the  First,  who  died  at  Cologne 
in  1642,  in  the  house  where,  sixty-five  years 
before,  Rubens,  her  painter,  was  born. 


The  Hotel-de-Ville.  95 

The  dome  of  Cologne,  when  seen  by  day, 
appeared  to  me  to  have  lost  a  little  of  its  sub- 
limity ;  it  no  longer  had  what  I  call  la  grandeur 
crepusculaire  that  the  evening  lends  to  huge 
objects  ;  and  I  must  say  that  the  cathedral  of 
Beauvais,  which  is  scarcely  known,  is  not  in- 
ferior, either  in  size  or  in  detail,  to  the  cathe- 
dral of  Cologne. 

The  Hotel-de-Ville,  situated  near  the  cathe- 
dral, is  one  of  those  singular  edifices  which  have 
been  built  at  different  times,  and  which  consist 
of  all  the  styles  of  architecture  seen  in  ancient 
buildings.  The  mode  in  which  these  edifices 
have  been  built  forms  rather  an  interesting 
study.  Nothing  is  regular — no  fixed  plan  has 
been  drawn  out — all  has  been  built  as  necessity 
required. 

Thus  the  Hotel-de-Ville,  which  has,  probably, 
some  Roman  cave  near  its  foundation,  was,  in 
1250,  only  a  structure  similar  to  those  of  our 
edifices  built  with  pillars.  For  the  convenience 
of  the  night-watchman,  and  in  order  to  sound 
the  alarum,  a  steeple  was  required,  and  in  the 
fourteenth  century  a  tower  was  built.  Under 
Maximilian  a  taste  for  elegant  structures  was 
everywhere  spread,  and  the  bishops  of  Cologne, 
deeming  it  essential  to  dress  their  city-house 
in  new  raiments,  engaged  an  Italian  architect, 
a  pupil,  probably,  of  old  Michael  Angelo,  and 


96  The  Rhine. 


a  French  sculptor,  who  adjusted  on  the  black- 
ened facade  of  the  thirteenth  century  a  tri- 
umphant and  magnificent  porch.  A  few  years 
expired,  and  they  stood  sadly  in  want  of  a 
promenoir  by  the  side  of  the  Registry.  A  back 
court  was  built,  and  galleries  erected,  which 
were  sumptuously  enlivened  by  heraldry  and 
bas-reliefs.  These  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing ; 
but,  in  a  few  years,  no  person  will  have  the 
same  gratification,  for,  without  anything  be- 
ing done  to  prevent  it,  they  are  fast  falling 
into  ruins.  At  last,  under  Charles  the  Fifth, 
a  large  room  for  sales  and  for  the  assemblies  of 
the  citizens  was  required,  and  a  tasteful  build- 
ing of  stone  and  brick  was  added.  Thus  a 
corps  of  the  thirteenth  century,  a  belfry  of  the 
fourteenth,  a  porch  and  back-court  of  the  time 
of  Maximilian,  and  a  hall  of  that  of  Charles  the 
Fifth,  linked  together  in  an  original  and  pleas- 
ing manner,  form  the  Hotel-de-Ville  of  Cologne. 

I  went  up  to  the  belfry ;  and  under  a  gloomy 
sky,  which  harmonized  with  the  edifice  and  with 
my  thoughts,  I  saw  at  my  feet  the  whole  of  this 
admirable  town. 

From  Thurmchen  to  Bayenthurme,  the  town, 
which  extends  upwards  of  a  league  on  the 
banks  of  the  river,  displays  a  whole  host  of  win- 
dows and  facades.  In  the  midst  of  roofs,  tur- 
rets and  gables,  the  summits  of  twenty -four 


The  Hotel-de-Ville.  97 

churches  strike  the  eye,  all  of  different  styles, 
and  each  church,  from  its  grandeur,  worthy  of 
the  name  of  cathedral.  If  we  examine  the 
town  en  detail,  all  is  stir,  all  is  life.  The 
bridge  is  crowded  with  passengers  and  car- 
riages ;  the  river  is  covered  with  sails.  Here 
and  there  clumps  of  trees  caress,  as  it  were, 
the  houses  blackened  by  time  ;  and  the  old 
stone  hotels  of  the  fifteenth  century,  with  their 
long  frieze  of  sculptured  flowers,  fruit  and 
leaves,  upon  which  the  dove,  when  tired,  rests 
itself,  relieve  the  monotony  of  the  slate  roofs 
and  brick  fronts  which  surround  them. 

Round  this  great  town—  mercantile  from  its 
industry,  mrHtary  from  its  position,  marine  from 
its  river— is  a  vast  plain  that  borders  Germany, 
which  the  Rhine  crosses  at  different  places, 
and  is  crowned  on  the  northeast  by  historic 
croupes — that  wonderful  nest  of  legends  and 
traditions,  called  the  "  Seven  Mountains."  Thus 
Holland  and  its  commerce,  Germany  and  its 
poetry —  like  the  two  great  aspects  of  the  hu- 
man mind,  the  positive  and  the  ideal  —  shed 
their  light  upon  the  horizon  of  Cologne  ;  a  city 
of  business  and  of  meditation. 

After  descending  from   the  belfry,  I   stopped 

in    the    yard    before    a   handsome    porch    of  the 

Renaissance,    the     second     story    of     which     is 

formed    of  a    series    of   small    triumphal    archt---, 

5 


98  The  Rhine. 


with  inscriptions.  The  first  is  dedicated  to 
Caesar ;  the  second  to  Augustus ;  the  third  to 
Agrippa,  the  founder  of  Cologne  ;  the  fourth  to 
Constantine,  the  Christian  emperor ;  the  fifth 
to  Justine,  the  great  legislator ;  and  the  sixth 
to  Maximilian.  Upon  the  facade,  the  poetic 
sculptor  has  chased  three  bas-reliefs,  repre- 
senting the  three  lion-combatants,  Milo  of  Cro- 
tona,  Pepin-le-Bref,  and  Daniel.  At  the  two 
extremities  he  has  placed  Milon  de  Crotone, 
attacking  the  lions  by  strength  of  body ;  and 
Daniel  subduing  the  lions  by  the  power  of 
mind.  Between  these  is  Pepin-le-Bref,  con- 
quering his  ferocious  antagonist  with  that  mix- 
ture of  moral  and  physical  strength  which  dis- 
tinguishes the  soldier.  Between  pure  strength 
and  pure  thought,  is  courage ;  between  the 
athlete  and  the  prophet — the  hero. 

Pepin,  sword  in  hand,  has  plunged  his  left 
arm,  which  is  enveloped  in  his  mantle,  into 
the  mouth  of  the  lion :  the  animal  stands,  with 
extended  claws,  in  that  attitude  which  in  her- 
aldry represents  the  lion  rampant.  Pepin  at- 
tacks it  bravely  and  vanquishes.  Daniel  is 
standing  motionless,  his  arms  by  his  side,  and 
his  eyes  lifted  up  to  Heaven,  the  lions  lovingly 
rolling  at  his  feet.  As  for  Milo  de  Crotona, 
he  defends  himself  against  the  lion,  which  is 
in  the  act  of  devouring  him.  His  blind  pre- 


The  Poet  of  Cologne.  99 


sumption  has  put  too  much  faith  in  muscle, 
in  corporeal  strength.  These  three  bas-reliefs 
contain  a  world  of  meaning ;  the  last  produces 
a  powerful  effect.  It  is  Nature  avenging  her- 
self on  the  man  whose  only  faith  is  in  brute 
force. 

As  I  was  about  to  leave  the  town-house — this 
spacious  building,  this  dwelling,  rich  in  legend- 
ary lore  as  well  as  in  historical  facts — a  man, 
in  appearance  older  than  he  actually  was, 
crooked  from  disposition  more  than  from  the 
influence  of  age,  crossed  the  yard.  The  per- 
son who  conducted  me  to  the  belfry,  in  point- 
ing him  out,  said  : 

"  That  man  is  a  poet :  he  has  composed  sev- 
eral epics  against  Napoleon,  against  the  revo- 
lution of  1830,  and  against  the  French.  The 
last,  his  chef  d'ceuvre,  beseeches  an  architect  to 
finish  the  church  of  Cologne  in  the  same  style 
as  the  Pantheon  in  Paris." 

Epics!  granted!  Nevertheless,  this  man,  or 
poet,  is  the  most  unwashed-looking  animal  that 
ever  I  put  eyes  upon.  I  do  not  think  we  have 
anything  in  France  that  will  bear  a  comparison 
with  the  epic  poet  of  Cologne. 

To  make  up  for  the  opinion  which  this 
strange -looking  animal  had  formed  of  us,  a 
little  old  man,  with  a  quick  eye,  came  out  of 
a  barber's  shop,  in  one — I  do  not  know  which 


loo  The  Rhine. 


— of  the  dark  and  obscure  streets,  and  guessing 
my  country,  from  my  appearance,  came  to  me, 
shouting  out  : 

"  Monsieur,  Monsieur,  fous,  Francais !  oh,  les 
Francais  !  ran  !  plan  !  plan  !  plan  !  ran,  tan,  plan  ! 
la  querre  a  toute  le  monde  !  Prafes !  Prafes ! 
Napoleon,  n'est-ce  pas?  La  querre  a  toute 
1'Europe  !  Oh,  les  Francais,  pien  Prafes,  Mon- 
sieur. La  paionette  au  qui  a  tous  ces  Priciens, 
eine  ponnea  quilpite  gomine  a  lena.  Prafo  les 
Francais  !  ran  !  plan  !  plan  !  " 

I  must  admit  that  this  harrangue  pleased  me. 
France  is  great  in  the  recollection  and  in  the 
hopes  of  these  people.  All  on  the  banks  of 
the  Rhine  love  us  —  I  had  almost  said,  wait 
for  us. 

In  the  evening,  as  the  stars  were  shining,  I 
took  a  walk  upon  the  side  of  the  river  opposite 
to  Cologne.  Before  me  was  the  whole  town, 
with  its  innumerable  steeples  figuring  in  detail 
upon  the  pale  western  sky.  To  my  left  rose, 
like  the  giant  of  Cologne,  the  high  spire  of 
St.  Martin's,  with  its  two  towers  ;  and,  almost 
in  front,  the  sombre  abside-cathedral,  with  its 
many  sharp-pointed  spires,  resembling  a  mon- 
strous hedgehog,  the  crane  forming  the  tail, 
and  near  the  base  two  lights,  which  appeared 
like  two  eyes  sparkling  with  fire.  Nothing  dis- 
turbed the  stillness  of  the  night  but  the  rustling 


of  the  waters  at  my  feet,  the  heavy  tramp  of 
a  horse's  hoofs  upon  the  bridge,  and  the  sound 
of  a  blacksmith's  hammer.  A  long  stream  of 
fire  that  issued  from  the  forge  caused  the  ad- 
joining windows  to  sparkle  ;  then,  as  if  hasten- 
ing to  its  opposite  element,  disappeared  in  the 
water. 

From  this  grand  and  sombre  ensemble,  my 
thoughts  took  a  melancholy  turn,  and,  in  a 
kind  of  reverie,  I  said  to  myself,  "  The  germaine 
city  has  disappeared — the  city  of  Agrippa  is  no 
longer — but  the  town  of  St.  Engelbert  still 
stands.  How  long  will  it  be  so?  Decay,  more 
than  a  thousand  years  since,  seized  upon  the 
temple  built  by  Saint  Helena  ;  the  church  con- 
structed by  the  Archbishop  Anno  is  fast  de- 
caying. Cologne  is  demolished  by  its  river. 
Scarcely  a  day  passes  but  some  old  stone,  some 
ancient  relic,  is  detached  by  the  commotion  of 
the  steamboats.  A  town  is  not  situated  with 
impunity  upon  the  great  artery  of  Europe. 
Cologne,  though  not  so  old  as  Treves  or  So- 
leure,  has  already  been  thrice  deformed  and 
transformed,  by  the  rapid  and  violent  change 
of  ideas  to  which  it  has  been  subjected.  All 
is  changing.  The  spirit  of  positivism  and  utili- 
tarianism— for  which  the  grovelers  of  the  pres- 
ent day  are  such  strong  advocates — penetrates 


102  The  Rhine. 


and  destroys.  Architecture,  old  and  rever- 
ential, gives  way  to  modern  "good  taste"  Alas! 
old  cities  are  fast  disappearing. 


The  Insignificance  of  Man.  103 


CHAPTER     XI. 

APROPOS  OF  THE  HOUSE  "  IBACH." 

Man's    Insignificancy. — The   House  Ibach. — Marie  de  Medicis, 
Richelieu,  and  Louis  the  Thirteenth. 

WHAT  Nature  does,  perhaps  Nature 
knows;  but  one  thing  is  certain,  and  I 
am  not  the  only  one  who  says  so,  that  men  know 
not  what  they  do.  Often  in  confronting  history 
with  the  material  world,  in  the  midst  of  those 
comparisons  which  my  mind  draws  between  the 
events  hidden  by  God  and  which  time  and  crea- 
tion partly  disclose,  I  have  secretly  shuddered, 
when  thinking  that  the  forests,  the  lakes,  the 
mountains,  the  sky,  the  stars,  and  the  ocean,  are 
things  clear  and  terrible,  abounding  in  light  and 
full  of  science,  and  look,  as  it  were,  in  disdain 
upon  man — that  haughty,  presumptuous  thing, 
whose  arm  is  linked  to  impotence — that  piece  of 
vanity,  blind  in  its  own  ignorance.  The  tree 
may  be  conscious  of  its  fruit ;  but,  to  me,  man 
knows  nothing  of  his  destiny. 

The  life  of  man  and  his  understanding  are  at 
the  mercy  of  a  Divine  power,  called  by  some, 
Providence, — by  others,  Chance,  which  blends, 
combines,  and  decomposes  all ;  which  conceals 


104  The  Rhine. 


its  workings  in  the  clouds,  and  discloses  the  re- 
sults in  open  day.  We  think  we  do  one  thing, 
whilst  we  do  another,  urceus  exit.  History 
affords  copious  proofs  of  this.  When  the  hus- 
band of  Catherine  de  Medicis,  and  the  lover  of 
Diane  de  Poitiers,  allowed  himself  to  be  allured 
by  Philippe  Due,  the  handsome  Pihnontaise,  it 
was  not  only  Diane  d'Angouleme  that  he  en- 
gendered, but  he  brought  about  the  reconcilia- 
tion of  his  son  Henry  the  Third  with  his  cousin 
Henry  the  Fourth.  When  Charles  the  Second 
of  England  hid  himself,  after  the  battle  of 
Worcester,  in  the  trunk  of  an  oak,  he  only 
thought  of  concealment — something  more  was 
the  result;  he  named  a  constellation  "The  Royal 
Oak,"  and  gave  Halley  the  opportunity  of  de- 
tracting from  the  fame  of  Tycho.  Strange  that 
the  second  husband  of  Madame  de  Maintenon 
in  revoking  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  and  the  parlia- 
ment of  1688  in  expelling  James  the  Second, 
should  bring  about  the  singular  battle  of 
Almanza,  where,  face  to  face,  were  the  French 
army,  commanded  by  an  Englishman,  Marshal 
Berwick,  and  the  English  army,  commanded  by 
a  Frenchman,  Ruvigny,  Lord  Galloway.  If 
Louis  the  Thirteenth  had  not  died  on  the  I4th 
of  May,  1643,  it  would  never  have  struck  the  old 
Count  de  Fontana  to  attack  Rocroy,  which  gave 
an  heroic  prince  of  twenty-two  the  glorious  op- 


Laubespine  de  Chdtcauneuf.  10$ 

portunity  of  making  the  Duke  d'Enghien  the 
great  Cond6. 

In  the  midst  of  all  these  strange  and  striking 
facts  which  load  our  chronologies,  what  singular 
and  unforeseen  occurrences !  what  formidable 
counter-blows!  In  1664,  Louis  the  Fourteenth, 
after  the  offense  done  to  his  ambassador,  Crequi, 
caused  the  Corsicans  to  be  banished  from  Rome; 
a  hundred  and  forty  years  afterwards  Buonaparte 
exiled  the  Bourbons  from  France ! 

What  shadows !  but  still,  what  light  appears 
in  the  midst  of  the  darkness!  About  1612,  when 
Henry  of  Montmorency,  then  about  seventeen 
years  of  age,  saw  among  the  servants  of  his  father 
a  pale  and  mean-looking  menial,  Laubespine  de 
Chateauneuf,  bowing  and  scraping  before  him, 
who  could  have  whispered  in  his  ears  that  this 
page  would  become  under-deacon ;  that  this 
under-deacon  would  become  the  lord-keeper  of 
the  great  seal ;  that  this  keeper  of  the  great  seal 
would  preside  at  the  parliament  of  Toulouse ; 
and  that,  at  the  expiration  of  twenty  years,  this 
"  deacon-president"  would  surlily  demand  from 
the  Pope  permission  to  have  his  master,  Henry 
the  Second,  Duke  of  Montmorency,  Marshal  of 
France,  and  peer  of  the  kingdom,  decapitated  ? 
When  the  president  of  Thou  so  carefully  added 
his  clauses  to  the  ninth  edict  of  Louis  the 
Eleventh,  who  could  have  told  the  monarch  that 
5* 


lo6  The  Rhine. 


this  very  edict,  with  Laubardemont  for  a  handle, 
would  be  the  hatchet  with  which  Richelieu 
would  strike  off  the  head  of  his  son? 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  chaos  there  are  laws ; 
confusion  is  only  on  the  surface,  order  is  at  the 
bottom.  After  long  intervals,  frightful  facts 
similar  to  those  which  astounded  our  fathers, 
come  like  comets,  in  all  their  terror,  upon  our- 
selves ;  always  the  same  ambushes — the  same  mis- 
fortunes; always  foundering  upon  the  same  coasts. 
The  name  alone  changes — the  acts  are  still 
committed.  A  few  days  before  the  fatal  treaty 
of  1814,  the  emperor  might  have  said  to  his 
thirteen  marshals — 

Amen  dico  vobis  quia  unus  vestrum  me  traditurus  est. 

A  Caesar  cherishes  a  Brutus ;  a  Charles  the  First 
prevents  a  Cromwell  from  going  to  Jamaica;  a 
Louis  the  Sixteenth  throws  obstacles  in  the  way 
of  a  Mirabeau,  who  is  desirous  of  setting  out  for 
the  Indies ;  queens  whose  deeds  are  character- 
ized by  cruelty  are  punished  by  ungrateful  sons ; 
Agrippas  beget  Neros,  who  destroy  those  who 
gave  them  birth  ;  a  Mary  of  Medicis  engenders 
a  Louis  the  Thirteenth,  who  banishes  her. 

You,  without  doubt,  remark  the  strange  turn 
my  thoughts  have  taken — from  one  idea  to 
another — to  these  two  Italians — to  these  two 
women,  Agrippina  and  Mary  de  Medicis,  the 


The  House  "  Ibach" 


specters  of  Cologne.  About  sixteen  hundred 
years  ago,  the  daughter  of  Germanicus,  mother 
of  Nero,  connected  her  name  and  memory  with 
Cologne,  as  did,  at  a  later  date,  the  wife  of 
Henry  the  Fourth  and  mother  of  Louis  the 
Thirteenth.  The  first,  who  was  born  there,  died 
by  the  poniard  ;  the  second  expired  at  Cologne, 
from  the  effects  of  poison. 

I  visited,  at  Cologne,  the  house  in  which  Mary 
of  France  breathed  her  last  —  the  house  Ibach 
according  to  some,  and  Jabach  according  to 
others  ;  but,  instead  of  relating  what  I  saw,  I 
will  tell  the  thoughts  that  flashed  across  my 
mind  when  there.  Excuse  me  for  not  giving  all 
the  local  details,  of  which  I  am  so  fond  ;  in  fact, 
I  am  afraid  that  I  have,  ere  this,  fatigued  my 
reader  with  my  festons  and  my  astragales.  The 
unhappy  queen  died  here,  at  the  age  of  sixty- 
eight,  on  the  3rd  of  July,  1642.  She  was  exiled 
for  eight  years  from  France,  had  wandered 
everywhere,  and  was  very  expensive  to  the 
countries  in  which  she  stopped.  When  at  Lon- 
don, Charles  the  First  treated  her  with  munifi- 
cence, allowing  her,  the  three  years  she  resided 
there,  a  hundred  pounds  sterling  per  day.  After- 
wards —  I  must  say  it  with  regret  —  Paris  returned 
that  hospitality  to  Henrietta,  daughter  of  Henry 
the  Fourth  and  widow  of  Charles  the  First,  by 
giving  her  a  garret  in  the  Louvre,  where  she 


lo8  The  Rhine. 


often  remained  in  bed  for  want  of  the  comforts 
of  a  fire,  anxiously  expecting  a  few  louis  that 
the  coadjuteur  had  promised  to  lend  her.  Her 
mother,  the  widow  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  expe- 
rienced the  same  misery  at  Cologne. 

How  strange  and  striking  are  these  details ! 
Marie  de  Medicis  was  not  long  dead  when 
Richelieu  ceased  to  live,  and  Louis  the  Thir- 
teenth expired  the  following  year.  For  what 
good  was  the  inveterate  hatred  that  existed  be- 
tween these  three  mortal  beings  ?  for  what  end 
so  much  intrigue,  quarreling,  and  persecution? — 
God  alone  knows.  All  three  died  almost  at  the 
same  hour. 

There  is  something  remaining  of  a  mysterious 
nature  about  Mary  de  Medicis.  I  have  always 
been  horrified  at  the  terrible  sentence  that  the 
President  Henault,  probably  without  intention, 
wrote  upon  this  queen  : 

Elle  ne  fut  pas  assez  surprise  de  la  mort  de  Henri  IV. 

I  must  admit  that  all  this  tends  to  shed  a  lus- 
ter upon  that  admirable  epoch,  the  glorious  reign 
of  Louis  the  Fourteenth.  The  darkness  that 
obscured  the  beginning  of  that  century  con- 
trasted admirably  with  the  brilliancy  of  its  close. 
Louis  the  Fourteenth  was  not  only,  as  Riche- 
lieu, powerful,  but  he  was  majestic  ;  not  only,  as 
Cromwell,  great,  but  in  him  was  serenity.  Louis 


Louis  the  Fourteenth.  109 

the  Fourteenth  was  not,  perhaps,  the  genius  in 
the  master,  but  genius  surrounded  him.  This 
may  lessen  a  king  in  the  eyes  of  some,  but  it 
adds  to  the  glory  of  his  reign.  As  for  me,  as 
you  already  know,  I  love  that  which  is  absolute, 
which  is  perfect ;  and  therefore  have  always  had 
a  profound  respect  for  this  grave  and  worthy 
prince,  so  well  born,  so  much  loved,  and  so  well 
surrounded  ;  a  king  in  his  cradle,  a  king  in  the 
tomb ;  true  sovereign  in  every  acceptation  of 
the  word  ;  central  monarch  of  civilization  ;  pivot 
of  Europe ;  seeing,  so  to  speak,  from  tour  to 
tour,  eight  popes,  five  sultans,  three  emperors, 
two  kings  of  Spain,  three  kings  of  Portugal,  four 
kings  and  one  queen  of  England,  three  kings  of 
Denmark,  one  queen  and  two  kings  of  Sweden, 
four  kings  of  Poland,  and  four  czars  of  Muscovy, 
appear,  shine  forth,  and  disappear  around  his 
throne ;  polar  star  of  an  entire  age,  who,  during 
seventy-two  years,  saw  all  the  constellations  ma- 
jestically perform  their  evolutions  round  him. 


HO  The  Rhine. 


CHAPTER     XII. 

A     FEW     WORDS      RESPECTING      THE      WALDRAF 
MUSEUM. 

Schleis  Kotten — "  Stretching-out-of-the-hand  System,"  or,  Trav- 
eling Contingencies. — Recapitulation. 

BESIDES  the  cathedral,  the  Hotel-de-Ville, 
and  the  Ibach  House,  I  visited  Schleis 
Kotten,  the  vestiges  of  the  subterranean  aque- 
duct which,  at  the  time  of  the  Romans,  led  from 
Cologne  to  Travers.  Traces  of  it  are  at  the 
present  day  to  be  seen  in  thirty-two  villages. 
In  Cologne  I  inspected  the  Waldraf  Museum, 
and  am  almost  tempted  to  give  you  an  inventory 
of  all  I  saw;  but  I  will  spare  you.  Suffice  it  to 
know,  that  if  I  did  not  find  the  war-chariot 
of  the  ancient  Germans,  the  famed  Egyptian 
mummy,  or  the  grand  culverin  founded  at  Co- 
logne in  1400,  I  saw  a  very  fine  sarcophagus,  and 
the  armory  of  Bernard  Bishop  of  Galen.  I  was 
also  shown  an  enormous  cuirass,  which  was  said 
to  have  been  the  property  of  Jean  de  Wert,  a 
general  of  the  empire ;  but  I  sought  in  vain  for 
his  sword,  which  measured  eight  feet  and  a  half 
in  length;  his  immense  pike,  likened  to  the  pine 
of  Polyphemus;  and  his  large  helmet,  that,  as  it 
is  said,  took  two  men  to  raise  it. 


The   Waldraf  Museum.  i  i  i 

The  pleasure  of  seeing  all  these  curiosities — 
museums,  churches,  town-houses,  &c. — is  alloyed 
by  the  everlasting  extended  hand — pay,  pay. 
Upon  the  borders  of  the  Rhine,  as  at  other 
places  much  frequented,  the  stranger  is  obliged 
to  have  his  hand  in  constant  communion  with 
his  pocket.  The  purse  of  the  traveler — that 
precious  article — is  to  him  everything,  since  hos- 
pitality is  no  longer  seen  receiving  the  weary 
traveler  with  soft  words  and  cordial  looks.  I 
will  give  you  an  idea  of  the  extent  to  which  the 
stretching-out-of-the-hand  is  carried  on  among 
the  intelligent  naturels  of  this  country.  Re- 
member, there  is  no  exaggeration — only  the 
truth. 

On  entering  a  town,  an  understrapper  ascer- 
tains the  hotel  that  you  intend  putting  up  at, 
asks  for  your  passport,  takes  it,  and  puts  it  into 
his  pocket.  The  horses  stop ;  you  look  round, 
and  find  that  you  are  in  a  courtyard — that  your 
present  journey  is  terminated.  The  driver,  who 
has  not  exchanged  a  word  with  any  one  during 
the  journey,  alights,  opens  the  door,  and  ex- 
tends his  hand  with  an  air  of  modesty — "  Re- 
member the  driver."  A  minute  elapses:  the 
postilion  presents  himself,  and  makes  an  ha- 
rangue, which  signifies,  "  Don't  forget  me."  The 
luggage  is  uncorded  ;  a  tall,  fleshless  animal  sets 
your  portmanteau  gently  upon  the  ground,  with 


112  The  Rhine. 


your  nightcap  on  the  top  of  it ;  so  much  trouble 
"  must  be  rewarded."  Another  creature,  more 
curious  perhaps  than  the  latter,  puts  your  chat- 
tels upon  a  wheelbarrow,  asks  the  name  of  the 
hotel  you  have  fixed  upon,  then  runs  before  you, 
pushing  his  shapeless  machine.  No  sooner  ar- 
rived at  the  hotel  than  the  host  approaches,  and 
begins  a  dialogue,  which  ought  to  be  written  in 
all  languages  upon  the  doors  of  the  respective 
auberges. 

"  Good  day,  sir." 

"  If  you  have  a  spare  room,  I  should  like  to 
engage  it." 

"  Very  well,  sir.  Thomas,  conduct  the  gentle- 
man to  No.  4." 

"  I  should  like  something  to  eat." 

"  Immediately,  sir,  immediately." 

You  go  to  No.  4,  where  you  find  your  luggage 
has  arrived.  A  man  appears ;  it  is  the  person 
who  conveyed  the  luggage  to  the  hotel.  "  The 
porter,  sir."  A  second  makes  his  appearance; 
what  the  devil  does  he  want?  It  is  the  person 
who  carried  your  luggage  into  the  room.  You 
say  to  him — 

"  Very  well ;  I  shall  pay  you,  on  leaving,  with 
the  other  servants." 

"  Monsieur,"  the  man  replies,  with  a  suppli- 
cating air,  "I  don't  belong  to  the  hotel." 

There    is    no    alternative — "  disburse."      You 


The  Travelers  Purse.  113 

take  a  walk ;  a  handsome  church  presents  itself. 
You  cannot  think  of  passing  it :  no,  no,  you 
must  go  in,  for  it  is  not  every  day  you  meet  such 
a  structure;  you  walk  round,  gazing  at  every- 
thing; at  last  a  door  meets  your  view.  Jesus 
says,  "  Compelle  intrare /'  the  priests  ought  to 
keep  the  doors  open,  but  the  beadles  shut  them, 
in  order  to  gain  a  few  sous.  An  old  woman,  who 
has  perceived  your  embarrassment,  comes  and 
shows  you  a  bell  by  the  side  of  a  small  wicket ; 
you  ring,  the  wicket  is  opened,  and  the  beadle 
stands  before  you. 

"  Can  I  see  the  interior  of  the  church?" 

"  Certainly,"  the  old  man  replies,  a  sort  of 
grim  smile  lighting  up  his  grave  countenance. 

He  draws  out  a  bunch  of  keys,  and  directs  his 
steps  towards  the  principal  entrance.  Just  as 
you  are  about  to  go  in,  something  seizes  you  by 
the  skirts  of  your  coat;  you  turn  round;  it  is  the 
obliging  old  woman,  whom  you  have  forgotten, 
ungrateful  wretch !  to  reward — "pay!"  You  at 
last  find  yourself  in  the  interior  of  the  church  ; 
you  contemplate,  admire,  and  are  struck  with 
wonder. 

"  Why  is  that  picture  covered  with  a  green 
cloth?" 

"  Because,"  the  beadle  replies,  "  it  is  the  most 
beautiful  picture  in  the  church." 

"What!"  you  say,  in  astonishment,  "  the  best 


114  The  Rhine. 


picture  hidden ;  elsewhere  it  is  exposed  to  view. 
Who  is  it  by?" 

"  Rubens." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  it." 

The  beadle  leaves  you,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
returns  with  an  old  pensive-looking  individual 
by  his  side;  it  is  the  churchwarden.  This 
worthy  personage  presses  a  spring,  the  curtain 
draws,  and  you  behold  the  picture.  The  paint- 
ing seen,  the  curtain  closes,  and  the  church- 
warden bows  significantly — "  Pay,  pay."  On 
continuing  your  walk  in  the  church,  preceded  by 
the  beadle,  you  arrive  at  the  door  of  the  choir, 
before  which  a  man  has  taken  up  his  stand  in 
"  patient  expectation."  It  is  a  Swiss  who  has 
the  charge  of  the  choir.  You  walk  round  it, 
and,  on  leaving,  your  attentive  cicerone  gra- 
ciously salutes  you — "  Only  a  trifle."  You  find 
yourself  again  with  the  beadle,  and  soon  after 
pass  before  the  sacristy.  O,  wonder  of  wonders ! 
the  door  is  open.  You  enter,  and  find  a  sexton. 
The  beadle  retires,  for  the  other  must  be  left 
alone  with  his  prey.  The  sexton  smiles,  shows 
you  the  urns,  the  ecclesiastical  ornaments  and 
decorated  windows,  bishops'  mitres,  and,  in  a 
box,  a  skeleton  of  some  saint  dressed  as  a 
troubadour.  You  have  seen  the  sacristy,  there- 
fore "must  pay."  The  beadle  again  appears, 
and  leads  you  to  the  ladder  that  conducts  to  the 


The  Traveler  s  Purse.  115 

tower.  A  view  from  the  steeple  must  be  truly 
delightful.  You  decide  on  going  up.  The 
beadle  pushes  a  door  open  ;  you  climb  up  about 
thirty  steps,  then  you  find  that  a  door  which  is 
locked  prevents  you  proceeding  farther.  You 
look  back,  and  are  surprised  that  the  beadle  is 
no  longer  with  you — that  you  are  alone.  What's 
to  be  done?  You  knock;  a  face  appears;  it  is 
that  of  the  bellman.  He  opens  the  door,  for 
which  kind  action — "  Pay."  You  proceed  on 
your  way — are  delighted  to  find  yourself  alone — 
that  the  bellman  has  not  followed.  You  then 
begin  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  solitude,  and 
arrive  with  a  light  heart  at  the  high  platform  of 
the  tower. 

You  look  about,  come  and  go,  admire  the 
blue  sky,  the  smiling  country,  and  the  im- 
mense horizon.  Suddenly  you  perceive  an  un- 
known animal  walking  by  your  side :  then  your 
ears  are  dinned  with  things  you  know,  and,  per- 
haps, care  little  about.  It  turns  out  to  be  the 
explicateur,  who  fills  the  high  office  of  explaining 
to  the  stranger  the  magnificence  of  the  steeple, 
the  church,  and  the  surrounding  country.  This 
man  is  ordinarily  a  stutterer,  sometimes  deaf; 
you  do  not  listen  to  him;  you  forget  him,  in 
contemplating  the  churches,  the  streets,  the 
trees,  the  rivers,  and  the  hills.  When  you  have 
seen  all,  you  think  of  descending,  and  direct 


16  The  Rhine. 


your  steps  to  the  top  of  the  ladder.  The  bell- 
man is  there  before  you — u  Pay." 

"  Very  well,"  you  say,  fingering  your  purse, 
which  is  momentarily  dissolving;  "how  much 
must  I  give  you  ?" 

"  I  am  charged  two  francs  for  each  person, 
which  sum  goes  to  the  church  revenue;  but,  Sir, 
you  must  give  me  something  for  my  trouble." 

You  descend ;  the  beadle  makes  his  appear- 
ance, and  conducts  you  with  respect  to  the  door 
of  the  church.  So  much  trouble  cannot  fail  to 
be  well  rewarded. 

You  return  to  your  hotel,  and  have  scarcely 
entered  when  you  see  a  person  approaching  you 
with  a  familiar  air,  and  who  is  totally  a  stranger 
to  you.  It  is  the  understrapper  who  took  your 
passport,  and  who  now  returns  with  it — to  be 
paid.  You  dine ;  the  hour  of  your  departure 
comes,  and  a  servant  brings  you  in  the  bill — Pay; 
also  a  consideration  for  the  trouble  of  taking  the 
money.  An  ostler  carries  your  portmanteau  to 
the  diligence — you  must  remember  him.  You 
get  into  the  vehicle ;  you  set  off;  night  falls :  you 
begin  the  same  course  to-morrow. 

Let  us  recapitulate.  Something  to  the  driver, 
a  trifle  to  the  postilion,  the  porter,  the  man  who 
does  not  belong  to  the  hotel,  to  the  old  woman, 
to  Rubens,  to  the  Swiss,  to  the  sexton,  to  the 
bellman,  to  the  church  revenue,  to  the  beadle,  to 


The  Traveler  s  Purse.  117 


the  passport-keeper,  to  the  servants,  and  to  the 
ostler.  How  many  pays  do  you  call  that  in  a 
day?  Remember,  every  one  must  be  silver; 
copper  is  looked  upon  here  with  the  greatest 
contempt,  even  by  a  bricklayer's  laborer. 

To  this  ingenious  people  the  traveler  is  a  sack 
of  crowns,  which  the  good  inhabitants,  in  order 
to  reduce  the  bulk  as  soon  as  possible,  are  ever 
sweating.  The  government  itself  occasionally 
claims  a  share  of  the  spoil ;  it  takes  your  trunk 
and  portmanteau,  places  them  upon  its  shoulders, 
and  offers  you  its  hand.  In  large  towns  the 
porters  pay  to  the  royal  treasury  twelve  sous  two 
Hards  for  each  traveler.  I  was  not  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  at  Aix-la-Chapelle  before  I  had  given 
my  mite  to  the  King  of  Prussia. 


ii8  The  Rhine. 


CHAPTER     XIII. 

ANDERNACH. 

A  view  from  Andernach. — Village  of  Luttersdorf. — Cathedral. — 
Its  Relics. — Andernach  Castle. — Inscription. — The  Tomb  of 
Hoche. — Gothic  Church  and  Inscription. 

A  NDERNACH,  where  I  have  been  stopping 
JL\,  for  the  last  three  days,  is  an  ancient  muni- 
cipal town,  situated  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Rhine.  The  coup-d'ceil  from  my  window  is  truly 
charming.  Before  me,  at  the  foot  of  a  high  hill, 
which  obscures  from  my  view  part  of  the  blue 
sky,  is  a  handsome  tower  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury ;  to  my  right  the  Rhine,  and  the  charming 
little  white  village  of  Leutersdorf,  half  hidden 
among  the  trees;  and  to  my  left  the  four  steeples 
of  a  magnificent  church.  Under  my  window 
children  are  playing,  the  noise  of  their  prattlings 
mingling  with  the  quacking  of  geese  and  the 
chuckling  of  hens. 

I  visited  the  church  on  the  day  of  my  arrival, 
the  interior  of  which  is,  notwithstanding  the 
hideous  manner  that  some  one  has  plastered  it, 
rather  handsome.  The  Emperor  Valentinian, 
and  a  child  of  Frederick  Barberousse,  were  in- 
terred in  this  church,  but  neither  inscriptions 


An  Adventure.  119 


nor  tombstones  indicated  the  place  where  they 
were  buried.  Our  Saviour  at  the  tomb;  a  few 
statues,  life  size,  of  the  fifteenth  century,  and  a 
chevalier  of  the  sixteenth,  leaning  against  a  wall; 
several  figures;  the  fragments  of  a  mausoleum  of 
the  Renaissance,  were  all  that  the  smiling  hump- 
backed bellringer  could  show  me  for  a  little  piece 
of  silvered  copper  which  passes  here  for  thirty  sous. 

I  must  tell  a  little  adventure  which  I  had — 
an  incident  that  has  left  on  my  mind  the  im- 
pression of  a  sombre  dream. 

On  leaving  the  church  I  walked  round  the 
city.  The  sun  was  setting  behind  the  high 
hills  that,  in  seeming  pride  and  pristine  glory, 
look  down  upon  the  Rhine,  on  the  imperial 
tomb  of  Valentinian,  on  the  abbey  of  Saint 
Thomas,  and  on  the  old  walls  of  the  feudal  town 
of  the  electors  of  Treves. 

I  pursued  my  way  by  the  side  of  the  moat 
that  skirts  the  dilapidated  walls,  the  fallen  stones 
of  which  serve  as  seats  and  tables  for  half-naked 
urchins  to  play  upon,  and  in  the  evening  for 
young  men  to  tell  their  fair  bergeres  the  achings 
of  their  wounded  hearts.  The  formidable  castle, 
that  was  once  the  defense  of  Andernach,  is  now 
an  immense  ruin  ;  and  the  court,  once  the  seat 
of  war,  is  now  covered  with  grass,  upon  which 
women  bleach  in  summer  the  cloth  that  they 
have  woven  in  winter. 


120  The  Rhine. 


After  leaving  the  outer  gate  of  Andernach,  I 
found  myself  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine.  The 
night  was  calm  and  serene,  and  nature  had 
lulled  itself  to  sleep.  Shepherdesses  came  to 
drink  from  the  clear  stream,  then  in  mirth  ran 
away  to  hide  themselves  among  the  osieries. 
Before  me  a  white  village  was  all  but  lost  in  the 
distance,  and  towards  the  east,  at  the  extreme 
border  of  the  horizon,  the  full  moon,  red  and 
round  like  the  eye  of  a  Cyclop,  appeared  between 
two  clouds. 

How  often  have  I  walked  thus,  unconscious  of 
all  save  the  beauties  which  nature  presented, 
alive  only  to  that  dame  who  has  so  great  a  sway 
over  the  sensitive  mind !  I  knew  not  where  I 
was,  nor  where  I  was  straying ;  and  when  I 
awoke  from  my  reverie  I  found  myself  at  the 
foot  of  a  rising  ground,  crowned  at  the  summit 
by  some  stonework.  I  approached,  and  was 
somewhat  startled  on  finding  a  tomb.  Whose 
was  it?  I  walked  round,  trying  to  discover  the 
name  of  the  person  whom  it  memorialized,  and 
at  last  perceived  the  following  inscription  in 
brass  letters : 

L'armee  de  Sambre  et  Meuse  a  son  General  en  Chef. 

Above  these  two  lines  I  saw,  by  the  light  of  the 
moon,  which  was  shining  brightly,  the  name — 
HOCHE.  The  letters  had  been  taken  away,  but 
had  left  their  imprint  on  the  granite. 


Tomb  of  Hoche.  121 


That  name,  in  this  place,  at  such  an  hour,  and 
seen  by  such  a  light,  had  a  strange,  an  inexpress- 
ible effect  upon  me.  Hoche  was  always  a  favorite 
of  mine:  he,  like  Marceau,  was  one  of  those 
young  men  who  preluded  Buonaparte  in  an  at- 
tempt which  was  all  but  successful.  This,  then, 
I  thought,  is  the  resting-place  of  Hoche,  and  the 
well-remembered  date  of  the  i8th  of  April,  1797, 
flashed  across  my  memory. 

I  looked  around  me,  endeavoring,  but  in  vain, 
to  identify  the  spot.  To  the  north  was  a  vast 
plain ;  to  the  south,  about  the  distance  of  a  gun- 
shot, the  Rhine ;  and  at  my  feet,  at  the  base  of 
this  tomb,  was  a  small  village. 

At  that  moment  a  man  passed  a  few  steps 
from  the  monument.  I  asked  him  the  name  of 
the  village,  and  he  answered,  while  disappearing 
behind  a  hedge,  "  Weiss  Thurm." 

These  two  words  signify  White  Tower.  I  then 
remembered  Turris  Alba  of  the  Romans,  and 
was  proud  to  find  that  Hoche  had  died  in  an 
illustrious  place.  It  was  here  that  Caesar,  two 
thousand  years  ago,  first  crossed  the  Rhine. 

It  is  impossible  for  me  to  tell  my  inward  feel- 
ings while  contemplating  the  tomb  of  this  great 
man.  Compassion  seized  my  heart.  Can  such 
be  the  resting  place  of  this  illustrious  warrior, 
seemingly  forgotten  by  his  countrymen,  un- 
heeded by  the  stranger!  This  tomb,  built  by 


122  The  Rhine. 


his  army,  is  at  the  mercy  of  the  passer-by.  The 
French  General  sleeps  in  a  bean-field  far  from 
his  country,  and  Prussian  bricklayers  make  what- 
ever use  it  pleases  them  of  this  tomb  ! 

It  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  heard  a  voice  coming 
from  the  heap  of  stones,  saying,  "  France  must 
again  possess  the  Rhine." 

Andernach  is  a  lovely  place,  with  which  I  was 
truly  delighted.  From  the  top  of  the  hills  the 
eye  embraces  an  immense  circle,  extending  from 
Sibengeburge  to  the  crests  of  Ehrenbreitstein. 
Here  there  is  not  a  stone  of  an  edifice  that  has 
not  its  souvenir^  not  a  single  view  in  the  country 
that  has  not  its  beauties  and  its  graces ;  and, 
what  is  more,  the  countenances  of  the  in- 
habitants have  that  frank  and  open  expression 
which  fails  not  to  create  delight  in  the  heart  of 
the  traveler.  Andernach  is  a  charming  town, 
notwithstanding  Andernach  is  a  deserted  place. 
Nobody  goes  where  History,  Nature,  and  Poetry 
abound ;  Coblentz,  Bade,  and  Mannheim  are 
now  the  exclusive  resort  of  sophisticated  tour- 
ists. 

I  went  a  second  time  to  the  church.  The 
Byzantine  decoration  of  the  steeples  is  rich,  and 
of  a  taste  at  once  rude  and  exquisite.  The 
chapitres  of  the  southern  portal  are  very  cu- 
rious ;  there  is  a  representation  of  the  Cruci- 
fixion still  perfectly  visible  uoon  the  pediment, 


Has- Re  lief  at  Andernach.  123 


and  on  the  facade  a  bas-relief,  representing  Jesus 
on  his  knees,  with  His  arms  widely  extended: 
on  all  sides  of  him  lie  scattered  about,  as  if  in  a 
frightful  dream,  the  mantle  of  derision,  the 
sceptre  of  reeds,  the  crown  of  thorns,  the  rod, 
the  pincers,  the  hammer,  the  nails,  the  ladder, 
the  spear,  the  sponge  filled  with  gall,  the  sinister 
profile  of  the  hardened  thief,  the  livid  counte- 
nance of  Judas  ;  and  before  the  eyes  of  the  Divine 
Master  is  the  cross,  and  at  a  little  distance  the 
cock  crowing,  reminding  him  of  the  ingratitude 
and  abandonment  of  his  friend.  This  last  idea  is 
sublime ;  there  is  depicted  that  moral  sufferance 
which  is  more  acute  than  the  physical. 

The  gigantic  shadows  of  the  two  steeples 
darken  this  sad  elegy.  Round  the  bas-relief  the 
sculptor  has  engraved  the  following  expressive 
words : 

"  O  vos  omnesqui  transitis  per  viam,  attendite  et 
videte  si  est  dolor  similis  sicut  dolor  metis.  1538." 

There  is  another  handsome  church  at  Ander- 
nach, of  Gothic  structure,  which  is  now  trans- 
formed into  an  immense  stable  for  Prussian 
cavalry.  By  the  half-open  door  we  perceive  a 
long  row  of  horses,  which  are  lost  in  the  shadows 
of  the  chapel.  Above  the  door  are  the  words, 
"  Sancta  Maria,  ora  pro  nobis ;"  which  is  not 
exactly  an  apropos  inscription  for  the  abode  of 
horses. 


124  The  Rhine. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE   RHINE. 

The  Rhine  at  Evening.— Contrast  of  the  Rhine  with  other 
Rivers. — The  First  People  who  took  Possession  of  the 
Banks  of  the  Rhine. — Titus  and  the  Twenty-second  Legion. 
— Mysterious  Populations  of  the  Rhine.  —  Civilization. — 
Pepin-le-Bref,  Charlemagne,  and  Napoleon. 

I    LOVE    rivers;    they   do    more    than    bear 
merchandise — ideas  float  along  their  surface. 
Rivers,  like  clarions,  sing  to  the  ocean  of  the 
beauty  of  the  earth,  the  fertility  of  plans,  and 
the  splendor  of  cities. 

Of  all  rivers,  I  prefer  the  Rhine.  It  is  now  a 
year,  when  passing  the  bridge  of  boats  at  Kehl, 
since  I  first  saw  it.  I  remember  that  I  felt  a 
certain  respect,  a  sort  of  adoration,  for  this  old, 
this  classic  stream.  I  never  think  of  rivers — 
those  great  works  of  Nature,  which  are  also 
great  in  History, — without  emotion. 

I  remember  the  Rhone  at  Valserine ;  I  saw  it 
in  1825,  in  a  pleasant  excursion  to  Switzerland, 
which  is  one  of  the  sweet,  happy  recollections  of 
my  early  life.  I  remember  with  what  noise,  with 
what  ferocious  bellowing,  the  Rhone  precipitated 
itself  into  the  gulf  whilst  the  frail  bridge  upon 


The  Rhine.  125 


which  I  was  standing  was  shaking  beneath  my 
feet.  Ah!  well!  since  that  time,  the  Rhone 
brings  to  my  mind  the  idea  of  a  tiger, — the 
Rhine,  that  of  a  lion. 

The  evening  on  which  I  saw  the  Rhine  for  the 
first  time,  I  was  impressed  with  the  same  idea. 
For  several  minutes  I  stood  contemplating  this 
proud  and  noble  river — violent,  but  not  furious ; 
wild,  but  still  majestic.  It  was  swollen,  and  was 
magnificent  in  appearance,  and  was  washing  with 
its  yellow  mane,  or,  as  Boileau  says,  its  "  slimy 
beard,"  the  bridge  of  boats.  Its  two  banks  were 
lost  in  the  twilight,  and  though  its  roaring  was 
loud,  still  there  was  tranquillity. 

Yes,  the  Rhine  is  a  noble  river — feudal,  re- 
publican, imperial — worthy,  at  the  same  time, 
of  France  and  of  Germany.  The  whole  history 
of  Europe  is  combined  within  its  two  great  as- 
pects— in  this  flood  of  the  warrior  and  of  the 
philosopher — in  this  proud  stream,  which  causes 
France  to  bound  with  joy,  and  by  whose  pro- 
found murmurings  Germany  is  bewildered  in 
dreams. 

The  Rhine  is  unique:  it  combines  the  qualities 
of  every  river.  Like  the  Rhone,  it  is  rapid ; 
broad,  like  the  Loire ;  encased,  like  the  Meuse  ; 
serpentine,  like  the  Seine;  limpid  and  green,  like 
the  Somme ;  historical,  like  the  Tiber ;  royal, 
like  the  Danube;  mysterious,  like  the  Nile; 


126  The  Rhine. 


spangled  with  gold,  like  an  American  river  ;  and 
like  a  river  of  Asia,  abounding  with  phantoms 
and  fables. 

Before  the  commencement  of  History,  per- 
haps before  the  existence  of  man,  where  the 
Rhine  now  is  there  was  a  double  chain  of  vol- 
canos,  which  on  their  extinction  left  heaps  of 
lava  and  basalt  lying  parallel,  like  two  long  walls. 
At  the  same  epoch  the  gigantic  crystallizations 
formed  the  primitive  mountains;  the  enormous 
alluvions  of  which  the  secondary  mountains  con- 
sist were  dried  up ;  the  frightful  heap  which  is 
now  called  the  Alps  grew  gradually  cold,  and 
snow  accumulated  on  them,  from  which  two 
great  streams  issued,  the  one, — flowing  towards 
the  north,  crossed  the  plains,  encountered  the 
sides  of  the  extinguished  volcanos,  and  emptied 
itself  into  the  ocean  ;  the  other,  taking  its  course 
westward,  fell  from  mountain  to  mountain, 
flowed  along  the  side  of  the  block  of  extin- 
guished volcanos  which  is  now  called  Ardeche, 
and  was  finally  lost  in  the  Mediterranean.  The 
first  of  those  inundations  is  the  Rhine,  and  the 
second  the  Rhone. 

From  historical  records  we  find  that  the  first 
people  who  took  possession  of  the  banks  of  the 
Rhine  were  the  half-savage  Celts,  who  were 
afterwards  named  Gauls  by  the  Romans.  When 
Rome  was  in  its  glory,  Csesar  crossed  the  Rhine, 


The  Rhine.  \2J 


and  shortly  afterwards  the  whole  of  the  river  was 
under  the  jurisdiction  of  his  empire.  When  the 
Twenty-second  Legion  returned  from  the  siege 
of  Jerusalem,  Titus  sent  it  to  the  banks  of  the 
•Rhine,  where  it  continued  the  work  of  Martius 
Agrippa.  The  conquerors  required  a  town  to 
join  Melibocus  to  Taunus  ;  and  Moguntiacum, 
began  by  Martius,  was  founded  by  the  Legion, 
'J-J  built  by  Trajan,  and  embellished  by  Adrian. 
Singular  coincidence !  and  which  we  must  note 
in  passing.  This  Twenty-second  Legion  brought 
with  it  Crescentius,  who  was  the  first  that 
carried  the  Word  of  God  into  the  Rhingau,  and 
founded  the  new  religion.  God  ordained  that 
these  ignorant  men,  who  had  pulled  down  the 
last  stone  of  His  temple  upon  the  Jordan,  should 
lay  the  first  of  another  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Rhine.  After  Trajan  and  Adrian  came  Julian, 
who  erected  a  fortress  upon  the  confluence  of 
the  Rhine  and  the  Moselle  ;  then  Valentinian, 
who  built  a  number  of  castles.  Thus,  in  a  few 
centuries,  Roman  colonies,  like  an  immense 
chain,  linked  the  whole  of  the  Rhine. 

At  length  the  time  arrived  when  Rome  was  to 
assume  another  aspect.  The  incursions  of  the 
northern  hordes  were  eventually  too  frequent  and 
too  powerful  for  Rome ;  so,  about  the  sixth  cen- 
tury, the  banks  of  the  Rhine  were  strewed  with 
Roman  ruins,  as  at  present  with  feudal  ones. 


128  The  Rhine. 


Charlemagne  cleared  away  the  rubbish,  built 
fortresses,  and  opposed  the  German  hordes ;  but, 
notwithstanding  all  that  he  did,  notwithstanding 
his  desire  to  do  more,  Rome  died,  and  the  phys- 
iognomy of  the  Rhine  was  changed. 

Already,  as  I  before  mentioned,  an  unper- 
ceived  germ  was  sprouting  in  the  Rhingau.  Re- 
ligion, that  divine  eagle,  began  to  spread  its 
wings,  and  deposited  among  the  rocks  an  egg 
that  contained  the  germ  of  a  world.  Saint 
Apollinaire,  following  the  example  of  Crescen- 
tius,  who,  in  the  year  70,  preached  the  Word  of 
^^^  God  at  Taunus,  visited  Rigomagum.  Saint 
Martin,  Bishop  of  Tours,  catechised  Confluentia; 
Saint  Materne,  before  visiting  Tongres,  resided 
at  Cologne.  At  Treves,  Christians  began  to 
suffer  the  death  of  martyrdom,  and  their  ashes 
were  swept  away  by  the  wind ;  but  these  were 
not  lost,  for  they  became  seeds,  which  were 
germinating  in  the  fields  during  the  passage  of 
the  barbarians,  although  nothing  at  that  time 
was  seen  of  them. 

After  an  historical  period  the  Rhine  became 
linked  with  the  marvelous.  Where  the  noise 
of  man  is  hushed,  Nature  lends  a  tongue  to  the 
nests  of  birds,  causes  the  caves  to  whisper,  and 
thousand  voices  of  solitude  to  murmur:  where 
historical  facts  cease,  imagination  gives  life  to 
shadows  and  realities  to  dreams.  Fables  took 


The  Rhine. 


root,  grew,  and  blossomed  in  the  voids  of  His- 
tory, like  weeds  and  brambles  in  the  crevices  of 
a  ruined  palace. 

Civilization,  like  the  sun,  has  its  nights  and  its 
days,  its  plentitudes  and  its  eclipses ;  now  it  dis- 
appears, but  soon  returns. 

As  soon  as  civilization  again  dawned  upon 
Taunus,  there  were  upon  the  borders  of  the 
Rhine  a  whole  host  of  legends  and  fabulous 
stories.  Populations  of  mysterious  beings,  who 
inhabited  the  now  dismantled  castles,  had  held 
communion  with  the  belles  filles  and  beaux 
chevaliers  of  the  place.  Spirits  of  the  rocks  ; 
black  hunters,  crossing  the  thickets  upon  stags 
with  six  horns ;  the  maid  of  the  black  fen ;  the 
six  maidens  of  the  red  marshes  ;  Wodan,  the  god 
with  ten  hands;  the  twelve  black  men;  the 
raven  that  croaked  its  song ;  the  devil  who 
placed  his  stone  at  Teufelstein  and  his  ladder  at 
Teufelsleiter,  and  who  had  the  effrontery  to 
preach  publicly  at  Gernsbach,  near  the  Black 
Forest,  but,  happily,  the  Word  of  God  was  heard 
at  the  other  side  of  the  stream;  the  demon 
Urian,  who  crossed  the  Rhine  at  Dusseldorf, 
having  upon  his  back  the  banks  that  he  had 
taken  from  the  sea-shore,  with  which  he  intended 
to  destroy  Aix-la-Chapelle,  but  being  fatigued 
with  his  burden,  and  deceived  by  an  old  woman, 

he  stupidly  dropped  his  load  at  the  imperial  city, 
6* 


The  Rhine. 


where  that  bank  is  at  present  pointed  out,  and 
bears  the  name  of  Loosberg.  At  that  epoch, 
which  for  us  was  plunged  into  a  penumbra,  when 
magic  lights  were  sparkling  here  and  there,  when 
the  rocks,  the  woods,  the  valleys,  were  tenanted 
by  apparitions;  mysterious  encounters,  infernal 
castles,  melodious  songs  sung  by  invisible  song- 
stresses ;  and  frightful  bursts  of  laughter  emanat- 
ing from  mysterious  beings,  —  these,  with  a  host 
of  other  adventures,  shrouded  in  impossibility, 
and  holding  on  by  the  heel  of  reality,  are  de- 
tailed in  the  legends. 

At  last  these  phantoms  disappeared  as  dawn 
burst  in  upon  them.  Civilization  again  resumed 
its  sway,  and  fiction  gave  place  to  fact.  The 
Rhine  assumed  another  aspect  :  abbeys  and  con- 
vents increased  ;  churches  were  built  along  the 
banks  of  the  river.  The  ecclesiastic  princes  mul- 
tiplied the  edifices  in  the  Rhingau,  as  the  pre- 
fects of  Rome  had  done  before  them. 

The  sixteenth  century  approached  :  in  the 
fourteenth  the  Rhine  witnessed  the  invention  of 
artillery;  and  on  its  bank,  at  Strasbourg,  a  print- 
ing-office was  first  established.  In  1400  the  fa- 
mous cannon,  fourteen  feet  in  length,  was  cast  at 
Cologne  ;  and  in  1472  Vindelin  de  Spire  printed 
his  Bible.  A  new  world  was  making  its  appear- 
ance ;  and,  strange  to  say,  it  was  upon  the  banks 
of  the  Rhine  that  those  two  mysterious  tools 


The  Rhine.  131 


with  which  God  unceasingly  works  out  the  civil- 
ization of  man, — the  catapult  and  the  book — 
war  and  thought, — took  a  new  form. 

The  Rhine,  in  the  destinies  of  Europe,  has  a 
sort  of  providential  signification.  It  is  the  great 
moat  which  divides  the  north  from  the  south. 
The  Rhine  for  thirty  ages,  has  seen  the  forms 
and  reflected  the  shadows  of  almost  all  the 
warriors  who  tilled  the  old  continent  with  that 
share  which  they  call  sword.  Caesar  crossed  the 
Rhine  in  going  to  the  south  ;  Attila  crossed  it 
when  descending  to  the  north.  It  was  here  that 
Clovis  gained  the  battle  of  Tolbiac ;  and  that 
Charlemagne  and  Napoleon  figured.  Frederick 
Barberousse,  Rodolph  de  Hapsbourg,  and  Fred- 
erick the  First,  were  great,  victorious,  and 
formidable  when  here.  For  the  thinker,  who  is 
conversant  with  History,  two  great  eagles  are 
perpetually  hovering  over  the  Rhine — that  of 
the  Roman  legions,  and  the  eagle  of  the  French 
regiments. 

The  Rhine — that  noble  flood,  which  the 
Romans  named  Rhenus  superbus,  bore  at  one 
time  upon  its  surface  bridges  of  boats,  over 
which  the  armies  of  Italy,  Spain,  and  France 
poured  into  Germany,  and  which,  at  a  later  date, 
were  made  use  of  by  the  hordes  of  barbarians 
when  rushing  into  the  ancient  Roman  world : 
at  another,  oh  its  surface  it  floated  peaceably  the 


132  The  Rhine. 


fir-trees  of  Murg  and  of  Saint  Gall,  the  prophyry 
and  the  marble  of  Bale,  the  salt  of  Karlshall,  the 
leather  of  Stromberg,  the  quicksilver  of  Lans- 
berg,  the  wine  of  Johannisberg,  the  slates  of 
Coab,  the  cloth  and  earthenware  of  Wallendar, 
the  silks  and  linens  of  Cologne.  It  majestically 
performs  its  double  function  of  flood  of  war  and 
flood  of  peace,  having,  without  interruption, 
upon  the  ranges  of  hills  which  embank  the  most 
notable  portion  of  its  course,  oak-trees  on  one 
side  and  vine-trees  on  the  other — signifying 
strength  and  joy. 

For  Homer  the  Rhine  existed  not ;  for  Virgil 
it  was  only  a  frozen  stream — Frigora  Rheni ;  for 
Shakspeare  it  was  the  "beautiful  Rhine;"  for 
us  it  is,  and  will  be  to  the  day  when  it  shall  be- 
come the  grand  question  of  Europe,  a  pictur- 
esque river,  the  resort  of  the  unemployed  of 
Ems,  of  Baden,  and  of  Spa. 

Petrarch  visited  Aix-la-Chapelle,  but  I  do  not 
think  he  has  spoken  of  the  Rhine. 

The  left  bank  belongs  naturally  to  France : 
Providence,  at  three  different  periods,  gave  it  its 
two  banks — under  Pepin-le-Bref,  Charlemagne, 
and  Napoleon.  The  empire  of  Pepin-le-Bref  com- 
prised, properly  speaking,  France,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Aquitaine  and  Gascony,  and  Germany 
as  far  as  Bavaria.  The  empire  of  Charlemagne 
was  twice  as  large  as  that  of  Napoleon. 


The  Rhine.  133 


It  is  true  that  Napoleon  had  three  empires,  or, 
more  plainly  speaking,  was  emperor  in  three 
ways, — immediately  and  directly  of  France,  and, 
by  his  brothers,  of  Italy,  Westphalia,  and  Hol- 
land. Taken  in  this  sense,  the  empire  of  Na- 
poleon was  at  least  equal  to  that  of  Charle- 
magne. 

These  emperors  were  Titans;  they  held  for  a 
moment  the  universe  in  their  hands,  but  Death 
ultimately  caused  them  to  relax  their  hold. 

The  Rhine  has  had  four  distinct  phases — first, 
the  antedeluvian  epoch,  volcanos ;  second,  the 
ancient  historical  epoch,  in  which  Caesar  shone ; 
third,  the  marvelous  epoch,  in  which  Charle- 
magne triumphed ;  fourth,  the  modern  historical 
epoch,  when  Germany  wrestled  with  France — 
when  Napoleon  for  a  time  held  his  sway. 

The  Rhine — providential  flood — seems  to  be  a 
symbolical  stream.  In  its  windings,  in  its  course, 
in  the  midst  of  all  that  it  traverses,  it  is,  so 
speaking,  the  image  of  civilization  to  which  it 
has  been  so  useful,  and  which  it  will  still  serve. 
It  flows  from  Constance  to  Rotterdam  ;  from  the 
country  of  eagles  to  the  village  of  herrings;  from 
the  city  of  popes,  of  councils,  and  of  emperors, 
to  the  counter  of  the  merchant  and  of  the 
citizen  ;  from  the  great  Alps  themselves  to  that 
immense  body  of  water  which  we  term  octan* 


134  The  Rhine. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE   MOUSE. 

.Velmich.— Legend  of  the  Priest  and  the  Silver  Bell. — Giant's 
Tomb.  —  Explanation  of  the  Mouse.  —  The  Solitary  in- 
habitants  of  the  Ruin. 

ON  my  leaving  Cologne  it  rained  the  whole 
of  the  morning.  I  had  taken  my  passage  to 
Andernach  by  the  Stadt  Manheim  ;  but  had  not 
proceeded  far  up  the  Rhine,  when  suddenly — I 
do  not  know  by  what  caprice,  for  ordinarily  upon 
the  lake  of  Constance  the  south-west  winds,  the 
Favonius  of  Virgil  and  of  Horace,  bring  storms 
— the  immense  opaque  cloud  which  pended  over 
our  heads,  burst,  and  began  to  disperse  itself  in 
all  directions.  Shortly  after,  a  blue  vault  ap- 
peared ;  and  bright  warm  rays  caused  the  travel- 
ers to  leave  the  cabin  and  hurry  to  the  deck. 

At  that  moment  we  passed — with  vines  on  the 
one  side,  and  oaks  on  the  other — an  old  and 
picturesque  village  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
river.  It  was  that  of  Velmich,  above  which  rose, 
almost  vertically,  one  of  those  enormous  banks 
of  lava  that  resemble  the  cupola  in  its  immeasur- 
able proportions.  Upon  this  volcanic  mound 
stands  the  ruin  of  a  superb  feudal  fortress.  On 


The  Mouse. 


the  borders  of  the  river  a  group  of  young  women, 
busily  chatting,  were  bleaching  their  linen  in  the 
rays  of  the  sun. 

This  sight  was  too  tempting.  I  could  not 
pass  without  paying  the  ruin  a  visit ;  for  I  knew 
that  it  was  that  of  Velmich — the  least  esteemed 
and  least  frequented  upon  the  Rhine. 

For  the  traveler,  it  is  difficult  to  approach, 
and,  some  say,  dangerous ;  for  the  peasant,  it 
abounds  with  spectres,  and  is  the  subject  of 
frightful  tales.  It  is  infested  with  living  flames, 
which  hide  themselves  by  day  in  subterraneous 
vaults,  and  at  night  become  visible  on  the  sum- 
mit of  the  round  tower.  This  enormous  turret 
is  an  immense  pit,  which  descends  far  beneath 
the  level  of  the  Rhine.  A  Seigneur  of  Velmich, 
called  Falkenstein, — a  name  fatal  in  the  legends, 
threw  into  this  aperture,  unshriven,  whomsoever 
he  pleased :  it  is  the  troubled  souls  of  those  that 
were  thus  murdered  who  inhabit  the  castle. 
There  were  at  that  epoch,  in  the  steeple  of 
Velmich,  a  silver  bell  which  was  given  by  Wini- 
fred, Bishop  of  Mayenne,  the  year  740, — memor- 
able time,  when  Constantine  the  Sixth  was  em- 
peror of  Rome.  This  bell  was  once  rung  for  the 
prayers  of  forty  hours,  when  a  lord  of  Velmich 
was  seriously  ill.  Falkenstein,  who  did  not  be- 
lieved in  God,  and  who  even  doubted  the  exist- 
ence of  the  devil,  being  in  want  of  money,  cast 


136  The  Rhine. 


an  envious  look  upon  the  handsome  bell.  He 
caused  it  to  be  taken  from  the  church  and 
brought  to  him.  The  prior  of  Velmich  was  much 
affected  at  the  sacrilege,  and  went,  in  sacerdotal 
habiliments,  preceded  by  two  children  of  the 
choir  bearing  the  cross,  to  demand  the  bell. 
Falkenstein  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter,  cry- 
ing— 

"Ah,  ah !  you  wish  to  have  your  bell,  do  you? 
Well,  you  shall  have  it;  and  I  warrant  it  never 
will  leave  you  more ! " 

Thereupon,  the  bell  was  tied  round  the  priest's 
neck,  and  both  were  thrown  into  the  pit  of  the 
tower.  Then,  upon  the  order  of  Falkenstein, 
large  stones  were  thrown  into  the  pit,  filling  up 
about  six  feet.  A  few  days  afterwards,  Falk- 
enstein fell  ill ;  and  when  night  came,  the  doctor 
and  the  astrologer,  who  were  watching,  heard 
with  terror  the  knell  of  the  silver  bell  coming 
from  the  depths  of  the  earth.  Next  morning 
Falkenstein  died.  Since  that  time,  as  regularly 
as  the  years  roll  over,  the  silver  bell  is  heard 
ringing  under  the  mountains,  reminding  the  in- 
habitants of  the  anniversary  of  the  death  of 
Falkenstein.  So  runs  the  legend. 

On  the  neighboring  mountain — that  on  the 
other  side  of  the  torrent  of  Velmich — is  the 
tomb  of  an  ancient  giant ;  for  the  imagination 
of  man — he  who  has  seen  volcanoes,  the  great 


The  Mouse.  137 


forges  of  nature — has  put  Cyclops  wherever  the 
mountains  smoked,  giving  to  every  ALtna.  its 
Polyphemus. 

I  began  to  ascend  the  ruins  between  the 
souvenir  of  Falkenstein  and  that  of  the  giant. 
I  must  tell  you  that  the  best  way  was  pointed 
out  to  me  by  the  children  of  the  village,  for 
which  service  I  allowed  them  to  take  some  of 
the  silver  and  copper  coins  of  those  people  from 
my  purse ;  things  the  most  fantastic,  yet  still  the 
most  intelligible  in  the  world. 

The  road  is  steep,  but  not  at  all  dangerous, 
except  to  people  subject  to  giddiness ;  or,  per- 
haps, after  excessive  rains,  when  the  ground  and 
rocks  are  slippery.  One  thing  sure  is,  that  this 
ruin  has  one  advantage  over  others  upon  the 
Rhine— that  of  being  less  frequented. 

No  officious  person  follows  you  in  your  ascent; 
no  exhibitor  of  spectres  asks  you  to  "  remember 
him;"  no  rusty  door  stops  you  on  your  way: 
you  climb,  stride  over  the  old  ladder,  hold  on  by 
tufts  of  grass ;  no  one  helps,  nor  no  one  annoys 
you.  At  the  expiration  of  twenty  minutes  I 
reached  the  summit  of  the  hill,  and  stopped  at 
the  threshold  of  the  ruin.  Behind  me  was  a 
steep  ladder  formed  of  green  turf;  before  me,  a 
lovely  landscape ;  at  my  feet,  the  village ;  be- 
yong  the  village,  the  Rhine,  crowned  by  sombre 


138  The  Rhine. 


mountains  and  old  castles ;  and  round  and  above 
the  mountains,  a  bright  blue  sky. 

Having  taken  breath,  I  began  to  ascend  the 
steep  staircase.  At  that  instant  the  dismantled 
fortress  appeared  to  me  with  such  a  tattered  as- 
pect— an  aspect  so  wild  and  formidable — that  I 
should  not  have  been  the  least  surprised  to  have 
seen  some  supernatural  form  carrying  flowers  ; — 
for  instance,  Gela,  the  betrothed  of  Barberousse ; 
or  Hildegarde,  the  wife  of  Charlemagne,  that 
amiable  empress,  who  was  well  acquainted  with 
the  occult  virtues  of  herbs  and  minerals,  and 
whose  foot  often  trod  the  mountains  when  she 
was  in  search  of  medicinal  plants.  I  looked  for 
a  moment  towards  the  north  wall,  with  a  sort  of 
vague  desire  to  see  start  from  the  stones  a  host 
of  hobgoblins, — which  are  "all  over  the  north," 
as  the  gnome  said  to  the  Canon  of  Sayn, — or  the 
three  little  old  women,  singing  the  legendary 
song,— 

"  Sur  la  tombe  du  g6ant 
J'ai  cueilli  trois  bris  d'orties : 
En  fil  les  ai  converties ; 
Prenez,  ma  sceur,  ce  present." 

But  I  was  forced  to  content  myself  without 
seeing  or  even  hearing  anything  except  the  notes 
of  a  blackbird,  perched  upon  some  adjoining 
rock. 

I  entered  the  ruins.  The  round  tower,  al- 
though the  summit  is  partly  dismantled,  is  of  a 


The  Mouse.  139 


prodigious  elevation.  On  all  sides  are  immense 
walls  with  shattered  windows,  rooms  without 
doors  or  roofs,  floors  without  stairs,  and  stairs 
without  chambers.  I  have  often  admired  the 
carefulness  with  which  Solitude  keeps,  incloses, 
and  defends  that  which  man  has  once  aban- 
doned. She  barricades  and  thicksets  the  thresh- 
old with  the  strongest  briers,  the  most  stinging 
plants,  nettles,  brambles,  thorns — showing  more 
nails  and  talons  than  are  in  a  menagerie  of 
tigers. 

But  Nature  is  beautiful  even  in  her  strangest 
freaks ;  and  the  wild  flowers — some  in  bud, 
others  in  blossom,  and  some  garbed  in  au- 
tumnal foliage — present  an  entanglement  at  once 
startling  and  beautiful.  On  this  side  are  blue- 
bells and  scarlet  berries ;  on  that  are  the  haw- 
thorn, gentian,  strawberry,  thyme,  and  sloe-tree. 
To  my  right  is  a  subterraneous  passage,  the  roof 
falling  in  ;  and  to  my  left  is  a  tower  without  any 
visible  aperture.  Secluded  as  this  spot  may 
seem,  the  cheerful  voices  of  washerwomen  on  the 
Rhine  are  distinctly  heard.  I  clambered  from 
bush  to  bush,  explored  each  aperture,  and  tried 
to  penetrate  each  vault. 

I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  this  huge  ruin  is 
called  the  Mouse.  I  will  inform  you  how  it  re- 
ceived that  appellation  : 

In  the  twelfth  century  there  was  nothing  here 


140  The  Rhine. 


but  a  small  borough,  which  was  watched,  and 
often  molested,  by  a  strong  castle  called  the  Cat. 
Kuno  de  Falkenstein,  who  inherited  this  paltry 
borough,  razed  it  to  the  ground,  and  built  a 
castle  much  larger  than  the  neighboring  one ; 
declaring  that,  "  henceforth,  it  should  be  the 
Mouse  that  would  devour  the  Cat.'* 

He  was  right.  The  Mouse,  in  fact,  although 
now  in  ruins,  is  a  redoubtable  godmother,  with 
its  haunches  of  lava  and  basalt,  and  entrails 
of  extinguished  volcano,  which,  with  seeming 
haughtiness,  support  it.  I  do  not  think  that 
any  person  has  had  occasion  to  laugh  at  that 
mountain  which  brought  forth  the  Mouse. 

I  wandered  about  the  ruins ;  first  in  one 
room,  then  in  another ;  admiring  at  one  time 
a  beautiful  turret  ;  now  descending  into  a 
cave,  groping  my  way  through  some  subter- 
raneous passage ;  then  finding  myself  looking 
through  an  aperture  that  commanded  a  view 
of  the  Rhine. 

The  sun  at  last  began  to  disappear,  which 
is  the  time  for  spectres  and  phantoms.  I  was 
still  in  the  ruins.  Indeed,  it  seemed  to  me  as 
if  I  had  become  a  wild  schoolboy.  I  wandered 
everywhere ;  I  climbed  up  every  acclivity ;  I 
turned  over  the  large  stones  ;  I  ate  wild  mul- 
berries ;  I  tried  by  my  noise  to  bring  the  su- 
pernatural inhabitants  from  their  hiding-places; 


The  Mouse.  141 


and,  as  I  trod  among  the  thick  grass  and  herbs, 
I  inhaled  that  acerb  odor  of  the  plants  of  old 
ruins  which  I  so  much  loved  in  my  boyhood. 

As  the  sun  descended  behind  the  mountains, 
I  thought  of  leaving,  when  I  was  startled  by 
something  strange  moving  by  my  side.  I 
leaned  forward.  It  was  a  lizard  of  an  extra- 
ordinary size — about  nine  inches  long,  with 
an  immense  belly,  a  short  tail,  a  head  like 
that  of  a  viper,  and  black  as  jet  —  which  was 
gliding  slowly  towards  an  opening  in  an  old 
wall.  That  was  the  mysterious  and  solitary 
inhabitant  of  the  ruin — an  animal  at  the  same 
time  real  and  fabulous — a  salamander,  which 
looked  at  me  with  mildness  as  it  entered  its 
hole. 


142  The  Rhine. 


CHAPTER      XVI. 

THE   MOUSE. 

Colossal  Profile. — The  Duchy  of  M.  de  Nassau. — Country  Sports  : 
Their  Punishment. — A  Mountebank. 

I    COULD  not  leave  this  ruin  ;  several  times 
I  began  to  descend,  then  reascended.     Na- 
ture, like  a  smiling  mother,  indulges  us  in  our 
dreams  and  in  our  caprices. 

At  length,  when  leaving  the  Mouse,  the  idea 
struck  me  to  apply  my  ear  to  the  basement 
of  the  large  tower.  I  did  so,  trusting  to  hear 
some  noise,  yet  scarcely  flattering  myself  that 
Winifred's  bell  would  deign  to  awake  itself  for 
me.  At  that  moment, — O  wonder  of  wonders! 
— I  heard — yes,  heard  with  mine  own  ears — a 
vague,  metallic  sound,  an  indistinct  humming 
of  a  bell,  gliding  through  the  crepuscule.  and, 
seemingly,  coming  from  beneath  the  tower.  I 
confess  that  this  strange  noise  brought  vividly 
to  my  memory  the  speech  of  Hamlet  to  Ho- 
ratio ;  but  suddenly  I  was  recalled  from  the 
world  of  chimeras  to  that  of  reality.  I  soon 
discovered  that  it  was  the  Ave  Maria  of  some 
village  floating  with  the  evening  breeze.  It 
mattered  not.  All  that  I  had  to  do  was  to 


The  Mouse.  143 


believe  and  say  that  I  heard  the  mysterious 
bell  of  Velmich  tinkling  under  the  mountain. 

As  I  left  the  north  moat,  which  is  now  a 
thorny  ravine,  the  Giant's  Tomb  suddenly  pre- 
sented itself.  From  the  point  where  I  stood, 
the  rock  figures,  at  the  base  of  the  mountain, 
close  to  the  Rhine,  the  colossal  profile  of  a 
head,  hanging  backwards,  with  open  mouth. 
One  is  ready  to  believe  that  the  giant,  who, 
according  to  the  legend,  lies  there,  crushed  un- 
der the  weight  of  the  mountain,  was  about  to 
raise  the  enormous  mass,  and  that,  on  his  head 
appearing  between  the  rocks,  an  Apollo,  or  a 
St.  Michael,  put  his  foot  upon  the  mountain, 
and  crushed  the  monster,  who  expired  in  that 
posture,  uttering  a  fearful  shriek,  which  is  lost 
in  the  darkness  of  forty  ages  ;  but  the  mouth 
still  remains  open. 

I  must  declare,  that  neither  the  giant,  the 
silver  bell,  nor  the  spectre  of  Falkenstein,  pre- 
vents the  vine  and  weeds  mounting  from  ter- 
race to  terrace  near  the  Mouse.  So  much  the 
worse  for  the  phantoms  of  this  country  of  the 
grape  ;  for  the  people  do  not  hesitate  to  take 
the  vine  that  clusters  round  their  dismantled 
dwelling  to  procure  themselves  the  wherewithal 
to  make  wine. 

But  the  stranger,  even  the  most  thirsty,  must 
be  cautious  how  he  plucks  the  fruit,  to  him  for- 


144  The  Rhine. 


bidden.  At  Velmich  we  are  in  the  duchy  of 
M.  de  Nassau,  and  the  laws  of  Nassau  are  rigor- 
ous respecting  such  country  sports.  The  delin- 
quent, if  caught,  is  forced  to  pay  a  sum  equiva- 
lent to  the  depredations  or  "  delights "  of  all 
those  who  are  lucky  enough  to  escape.  A  short 
time  ago  an  English  tourist  plucked  and  ate  a 
plum,  for  which  he  had  to  pay  fifty  florins. 

Wishing  to  proceed  to  Saint  Goar,  which  is 
upon  the  left  bank,  I  inquired  my  way  of  the 
village  mountebank,  who  gave  me  directions  in 
a  gibberish  which,  of  course,  I  did  not  under- 
stand; for,  instead  of  going  by  the  road  that 
runs  by  the  river,  I  took  that  which  leads  to  the 
mountain.  After  walking  for  a  considerable 
time,  I  at  length  came  in  view  of  the  Rhine ; 
when,  through  the  fog,  I  saw  a  group  of  houses, 
with  faint  lights  glimmering  in  the  windows.  It 
was  St.  Goar. 


Saint  Goar.  145 


CHAPTER     XVII. 

SAINT   GOAR. 

The  Cat.— Its  Interior. — Fabulous  Rock  of  Lurley. — The  Swiss 
Valley.— The  Fruit  Girl.— The  Reichenberg.— The  Barbers' 
Village.— vLegend. — The  Rheinfels.  —  Oberwesel.  —  French 
Hussar.— A  German  Supper. 

A  WEEK  might  be  very  agreeably  spent  at 
St.  Goar,  which  is  a  neat  little  town  lying 
between  the  Cat  and  the  Mouse.  To  the  left  is 
the  Mouse,  half  enveloped  in  the  fog  of  the 
Rhine;  and  to  the  right  is  the  Cat,  a  huge 
dungeon,  with  the  picturesque  village  of  Saint 
Goarshausen,  lying  at  its  base.  The  two  formid- 
able castles  seem  to  be  casting  angry  looks  across 
the  country,  their  dilapidated  windows  present- 
ing a  most  hideous  aspect.  In  front,  upon  the 
right  bank  of  the  river,  and  apparently  ready  to 
incite  the  two  adversaries,  is  the  old  colossal 
spectre  palace  of  the  Landgraves  of  Hesse. 

The  Rhine  at  St.  Goar,  with  its  sombre  em- 
bankments, its  shadows,  its  rippling  waters,  re- 
sembles a  lake  of  Jura  more  than  it  does  a 
river. 

If  we  remain  in  the  house,  we  have  all  day  be- 
fore us  a  view  of  the  Rhine,  with  rafts  floating 
7 


146  TJte  RJiine. 


on  its  surface.  Here  sailing-vessels,  there  steam- 
boats, which,  when  passing,  make  a  noise  re- 
sembling that  of  a  huge  dog  when  swimming. 
In  the  distance  on  the  opposite  bank,  under  the 
shade  of  some  beautiful  walnut-trees,  we  see  the 
soldiers  of  M.  de  Nassau,  dressed  in  red  coats 
and  white  trousers,  performing  their  exercise, 
while  the  rolling  of  the  drum  of  a  petty  duke 
strikes  out  ear.  Under  our  windows,  the  women 
of  St.  Goar,  with  their  sky-blue  bonnets,  pass  to 
and  fro ;  and  we  hear  the  prattling  and  laughing 
of  children,  who  are  diverting  themselves  on  the 
river's  brink. 

If  we  go  out  we  can  get  across  the  Rhine  for 
six  sous,  the  price  of  a  Parisian  omnibus;  then 
amusing  ourselves  by  paying  a  visit  to  the  Cat, 
which  is  an  interesting  ruin.  The  interior  is 
completely  dismantled.  The  lower  room  of  the 
tower  is  at  present  used  as  a  storehouse.  Several 
vine-trees  twine  themselves  round  it,  and  even 
grow  upon  the  floor  of  the  portait-gallery.  In  a 
small  room,  the  only  one  that  has  a  window  and 
door,  a  picture  representing  Bohdan  Chmielnicki 
is  nailed  to  the  wall,  with  two  or  three  portraits 
of  reigning  princes  hung  round  about  it. 

From  the  height  of  the  Cat  the  eye  encounters 
the  famed  gulf  of  the  Rhine,  called  the  Bank. 
Between  the  Bank  and  the  square  tower  of  Saint 
Goarshausen  there  is  only  a  narrow  passage,  the 


Or  Jade  of  Lurley.  147 


gulf  being  on  one  side,  and  the  rock  on  the  other. 
A  little  beyond  the  Bank,  in  a  wild  and  savage 
turning,  the  fabulous  rock  of  Lurley,  with  its 
thousand  granite  seats,  which  give  it  the  appear- 
ance of  a  falling  ladder,  descends  into  the  Rhine. 
There  is  a  celebrated  echo  here,  that  responds 
seven  times  to  all  that  is  said  and  all  that  is 
sung.  If  it  were  not  to  appear  that  I  wished  to 
detract  from  the  celebrity  of  the  echo,  I  would 
say  that  to  me  the  repetition  was  never  above 
five  times.  It  is  probable  that  the  Oreade  of 
Lurley,  formerly  courted  by  so  many  princes  and 
mythological  counts,  begins  to  get  hoarse  and 
fatigued.  The  poor  nymph  has  at  present  no 
more  than  one  admirer  who  has  made  himself, 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Rhine,  two  chambers 
in  the  rocks,  where  he  passes  his  days  in  playing 
the  horn  and  in  discharging  his  gun.  The  man 
who  gives  the  echo  so  much  employment,  is  an 
old  brave  French  hussar. 

The  effect  of  the  echo  of  Lurley  is  truly  ex- 
traordinary :  a  small  boat,  crossing  the  Rhine  at 
this  place,  makes  a  tremendous  noise;  and, 
should  we  shut  our  eyes,  we  might  believe  that 
it  was  a  galley  from  Malta,  with  its  fifty  large 
oars,  each  moved  by  four  galley-slaves. 

Before  leaving  Saint  Goarshausen,  we  must  go 
and  see,  in  an  old  street  which  runs  parallel  with 
the  Rhine,  a  charming  little  house  of  the  Ger- 


148  The  Rhine. 


man  Renaissance.  Afterwards  we  turn  to  the 
right,  cross  a  bridge,  and  enter,  amidst  the  noise 
of  a  water-mill,  the  Swiss  Valley,  a  superb  ra- 
vine, almost  Alpine,  formed  by  the  high  hill  of 
Petersberg,  and  by  the  brow  of  the  Lurley. 

The  Swiss  Valley  is  certainly  a  delightful 
promenade.  We  ascend  acclivities ;  descend : 
we  meet  high  villages;  plunge  into  dark  and  nar- 
row passages,  in  one  of  which  I  saw  the  ground 
that  had  lately  been  torn  up  by  the  tusks  of  a  wild 
boar ;  or  we  proceed  along  the  bottom  of  the  ra- 
vine, with  rocks  resembling  the  walls  of  Cyclops 
on  each  side.  Then,  if  we  draw  towards  the 
other  road,  which  abounds  with  farms  and  mills, 
all  that  meet  the  eye  seem  arranged  and  grouped 
for  Poussin  to  insert  into  a  corner  of  his  land- 
scape : — a  shepherd,  half  naked,  in  a  field  with 
his  flock,  contentedly  whistling  some  air;  a  cart 
drawn  by  oxen  ;  and  pretty  girls  with  bare  feet. 
I  saw  one  who  was  indeed  charming ;  she  was 
seated  near  a  fire,  drying  her  fruit :  she  lifted  up 
her  large  blue  eyes  towards  heaven — eyes  like 
diamonds,  and  countenance  darkened  by  the 
heat  of  the  sun.  Her  neck,  which  was  partly 
covered  by  a  collar,  was  marked  with  small-pox, 
and  under  her  chin  was  a  swelling.  With  that 
detraction,  joined  to  such  beauty,  one  might 
have  taken  her  for  an  Indian  idol,  squatted  near 
its  altar. 


The  Reichenberg.  149 


We  cross  a  meadow ;  the  hares  of  the  ravine 
run  here  and  there,  and  we  suddenly  behold,  at 
the  top  of  a  hill,  an  admirable  ruin.  It  is  the 
Reiclienberg,  in  which,  during  the  wars  of  "man- 
ual rights,"  in  the  middle  age,  one  of  the  most 
redoubtable  of  those  gentlemen  bandits,  who 
bore  the  epithet  of  "the  scourge  of  the  coun- 
try," lived.  The  neighboring  village  had  cause 
for  lamentation,  the  emperor  had  reason  for  sum- 
moning the  brigand  to  his  presence;  but  the  man 
of  iron,  secure  in  his  granite  house,  heeded  him 
not,  but  continued  his  depredatious,  his  orgies  of 
rapine  and  plunder,  and  lived  excommunicated 
by  the  church,  condemned  by  the  Deity,  tracked 
by  the  emperor,  until  his  white  beard  descended 
to  his  stomach.  I  entered  the  Reichenberg. 
There  is  nothing  in  that  cave  of  Homeric  thieves 
but  wild  herbs:  the  windows  are  all  dismantled, 
and  cows  are  seen  grazing  round  the  ruins. 

Behind  the  hill  of  the  Reichenberg  are  the 
ruins  of  a  town,  which  has  all  but  disappeared, 
and  which  bore  the  name  of  the  "BARBERS'  VIL- 
LAGE." The  following  is  the  account  given  of 
it  : 

The  Devil,  wishing  to  avenge  himself  on  Fred- 
erick Barberousse  for  his  numerous  crusades, 
took  it  into  his  head  to  have  the  beard  of  the 
crusader  shaved.  He  made  arrangements  that 
the  emperor  Barberousse,  when  passing  through 


150  The  Rhine. 


Bacharach,  should  fall  asleep,  and,  when  in  that 
state,  be  shaved  by  one  of  the  numerous  barbers 
of  the  village.  A  tricky  fairy,  as  small  as  a  grass- 
hopper, went  to  a  giant,  and  prayed  him  to  lend 
her  a  sack.  The  giant  consented,  and  even  gra- 
ciously offered  to  accompany  her,  at  which  she 
expressed  her  extreme  delight.  The  fairy,  after 
walking  by  the  side  of  such  a  huge  creature,  had, 
no  doubt,  swelled  herself  into  a  tolerable  bulk, 
for,  on  arriving  at  Bacharach,  she  took  the  sleep- 
ing barbers,  one  by  one,  and  placed  them  in  the 
sack ;  after  which,  she  told  the  giant  to  put  it 
upon  his  back,  and  to  take  it  away — that  it  did 
not  matter  where  it  was  placed.  It  being  night, 
the  giant  did  not  perceive  what  the  old  woman 
had  done;  he  obeyed  her,  and  strode  off  with  his 
accustomed  strides.  The  barbers  of  Bacharach, 
heaped  one  over  another,  awoke,  and  began  to 
move  in  the  sack.  The  giant,  through  fright,  in- 
creased his  pace.  As  he  traversed  the  Reichen- 
berg,  one  of  the  barbers,  who  had  his  razor  in 
his  pocket,  drew  it  out,  and  made  so  large  a  hole 
in  the  sack  that  all  the  barbers  fell  out,  scream- 
ing frightfully.  The  giant,  thunderstruck,  im- 
agining that  he  had  a  nest  of  devils  on  his  back, 
saved  himself  by  means  of  his  enormous  legs. 
When  the  emperor  arrived  at  Bacharach  there 
was  not  a  barber  in  the  place;  and,  on  Beelze- 
bub coming  to  see  the  deed  performed,  a  raven, 


The  Rheinfels.  151 


perched  upon  the  gate  of  the  town,  said  to  his 
grace  the  Devil — 

"  My  friend,  in  the  middle  of  your  face  you 
have  something  so  large  that  you  could  not  see  it 
even  in  a  looking-glass — that  is,  un  pied  de  nez" 

Since  that  time  there  has  been  no  barber  at 
Bacharach ;  and  even  to  this  day,  it  is  impossible 
to  find  a  shop  belonging  to  one  of  the  fraternity. 
As  for  those  stolen  by  the  fairies,  they  estab- 
lished themselves  where  they  fell,  and  built  a 
town  upon  the  spot,  which  they  called  the  "  Bar- 
bers' Village."  Thus  it  is  that  the  Emperor 
Frederick  the  First  preserved  his  beard  and  his 
surname. 

Besides  the  Mouse,  the  Cat,  the  Lurley,  the 
Swiss  Valley,  and  the  Reichenberg,  there  Is  also 
near  St.  Goar  the  once  formidable  castle  that 
shook  before  Louis  the  Fourteenth,  and  crum- 
bled under  Napoleon, — the  Rheinfels. 

About  a  mile  from  St.  Goar  we  perceive,  at 
the  side  of  two  mountains,  a  handsome  feudal 
town,  with  ancient  streets,  fourteen  embattled 
towers,  and  two  large  churches  of  Gothic  struc- 
ture. It  is  Oberwesel,  a  town  of  the  Rhine, 
which  was  often  the  seat  of  war.  Its  old  walls 
exhibit  innumerable  holes,  the  effects  of  the 
cannon-ball.  At  present,  Oberwesel,  like  an  old 
soldier,  has  become  a  vine-dresser.  The  red 
wine  here  is  excellent. 


152  The  Rhine. 


Like  all  other  towns  upon  the  Rhine,  Ober- 
wesel  has  near  it  a  castle  in  ruins — Schoenberg ; 
where,  in  the  tenth  century,  the  seven  laughing 
and  cruel  girls  lived,  who  were  turned,  in  the 
middle  of  the  river,  into  seven  rocks. 

The  road  from  St.  Goar  to  Oberwesel  is  full  of 
attractions.  It  runs  along  the  Rhine,  which  is  at 
times  hidden  from  our  view  by  hawthorn-trees 
and  willows.  All  here  is  still,  all  is  tranquil, — 
save  at  intervals,  when  the  pervading  silence  is 
broken  by  a  silvery  salmon  leaping  to  catch  its 
prey. 

In  the  evening,  after  we  have  taken  one  of 
those  delightful  walks  which  tend  to  open  the 
deep  caverns  of  the  stomach,  we  return  to  St. 
Goar,  and  find,  at  the  top  of  a  long  table,  sur- 
rounded by  smokers,  an  excellent  German  sup- 
per, with  partridges  larger  than  chickens.  We 
recruit  our  strength  marvelously ;  above  all,  if 
our  appetite  be  so  good  as  to  permit  us  to  over- 
look a  few  of  the  strange  rencontres  which  often 
take  place  on  the  same  plate — for  instance,  a 
roast  duck  with  an  apple  pie,  or  the  head  of  a 
wild  boar  with  preserves.  Just  before  the  supper 
draws  to  a  close,  a  flourish  of  a  trumpet,  ming- 
ling with  the  report  of  a  gun,  is  suddenly  heard. 
We  hurry  to  the  window.  It  is  the  French 
hussar,  who  is  rousing  from  dormancy  the  echo 
of  St.  Goar,  which  is  not  less  marvelous  than 


Echo  of  St.  Goar.  1 5.3 

that  of  Lurley.  Each  gunshot  is  equal  to  the 
report  of  a  cannon  ;  each  blast  of  a  trumpet 
is  echoed  with  singular  distinctness  in  the  pro- 
found darkness  of  the  valley.  It  is  an  exquisite 
symphony,  which  seems  to  be  mocking  while  it 
pleases  us.  As  it  is  impossible  to  believe  that 
this  huge  mountain  can  produce  such  an  effect, 
at  the  expiration  of  a  few  minutes  we  become 
dupes  of  illusion,  and  the  most  grave  thinker 
is  ready  to  swear  that  in  those  shades,  under 
some  fantastic  thicket,  dwells  a  solitary  —  a 
supernatural  being — a  sort  of  fairy — a  Titania, 
who  amuses  herself  by  delicately  parodying  the 
music  of  mortals,  and  throwing  down  the  half 
of  a  mountain  every  time  she  hears  the  report 
of  a  gun.  The  effect  would  be  still  greater  if  we 
could,  for  a  short  time,  forget  that  we  are  at  the 
\vindow  of  an  inn,  and  that  that  extraordinary 
sensation  has  served  as  an  extra  plate  to  dessert. 
But  all  passes  away  very  naturally ;  the  per- 
formance over,  a  waiter  belonging  to  the  auberge 
enters,  with  a  tin  plate  in  his  hand,  which  he  pre- 
sents to  the  inmates.  Then  all  is  finished  ;  and 
each  retires  after  having  paid  for  his  echo. 
7* 


154  The  Rhine. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

BACHARACH. 

>nnech,    and    Heimberg. — Europe. — A    Happy 
Little  World.— The  Cemetery. 

THIS  is  one  of  the  oldest,  the  prettiest,  and 
the  most  unknown  towns  in  the  world.  At 
my  window  are  cages  full  of  birds ;  from  the  roof 
of  my  room  hangs  an  old-fashioned  lantern ;  and 
in  the  corner  is  a  ray  of  the  sun,  imperceptibly 
but  gradually  advancing  towards  an  old  oak 
table. 

I  remained  three  days  at  Bacharach,  which  is, 
without  exception,  the  most  antique  group  of 
human  habitations  that  I  have  ever  seen.  One 
might  imagine  that  some  giant,  a  vender  of  bric- 
&-bac,  purposing  to  open  a  shop  upon  the  Rhine, 
had  taken  a  mountain  for  his  counter,  and 
placed,  from  the  bottom  to  the  top,  with  a  giant 
taste,  heaps  of  enormous  curiosities. 

This  old,  fairy  town,  in  which  romance  and 
legend  abound,  is  peopled  by  inhabitants  who 
— old  and  young,  from  the  urchin  to  the  grand- 
father, from  the  young  girl  to  the  old  dame 
— have,  in  their  cast  of  features  and  in  their 
walk,  something  of  the  thirteenth  century. 


155 


From  the  summit  of  the  Schloss  we  have  an 
immense  view,  and  discover,  in  the  embrasures' 
of  the  mountain,  five  other  castles  in  ruins; 
upon  the  left  bank  of  the  river,  Furstemberg, 
Sonnech,  and  Heimberg;  to  the  west,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Rhine,  Goutenfels,  full  of  re- 
collections of  Gustave  Adolphe ;  and,  towards 
the  east,  above  the  fabulous  valley  of  Wisper- 
thall,  the  manor,  where  the  inhospitable  Sibo 
de  Lorch  refused  to  open  the  door  to  the 
Gnomes  on  stormy  nights. 

At  Bacharach  a  stranger  is  looked  upon  as  a! 
phenomenon.  The  traveler  is  followed  with  eyes 
expressive  of  bewilderment.  In  fact,  no  one,  ex- 
cept it  be  a  poor  painter,  plodding  his  way  on 
foot,  with  a  wallet  upon  his  back,  ever  visits 
this  antique  capital— this  town  of  melancholy. 

I  must  not,  however,  forget  to  mention  that  in 
the  room  adjoining  mine  hangs  a  picture  pur- 
porting to  represent  Europe.  Two  lovely  girls, 
their  shoulders  bare,  and  a  handsome  young 
fellow,  are  singing.  The  following  stanza  is  un- 
derneath : 

*'  Enchanting  Europe  I  where  all-smiling  France 
Gives  laws  to  fashion,  graces  to  the  dance; 
Pleasure,  fine  arts,  each  sweet  and  lovely  face, 
Form  the  chief  worship  of  thy  happy  race." 

Under  my  window  was  an  entire  little  world, 
happy  and  charming — a  kind  of  court,  adjoining 


156  The  Rhine. 


a  Roman  church,  which  we  could  approach  by  a 
dilapidated  stair.  Three  little  boys  and  two 
little  girls  were  playing  among  the  grass,  which 
reached  their  chins ;  the  girls  every  now  and 
then  fighting  voluntarily  with  the  boys.  The 
ages  of  all  five  could  not  amount  to  more  than 
fifty  years.  Beyond  the  long  grass  were  trees 
loaded  with  fruit.  In  the  midst  of  the  leaves 
were  two  scare-crows,  dressed  like  Lubins  of  the 
Comic  Opera;  and  although,  perhaps,  they  had 
the  effect  of  frightening  the  birds,  they  failed  to 
do  that  to  the  bergeronettes.  In  all  corners  of 
the  garden  were  flowers  glittering  in  the  rays  of 
the  sun,  and  round  these  flowers  were  swarms  of 
bees  and  butterflies.  The  bees  hummed,  the 
children  chattered,  the  birds  sang,  and  at  a  little 
distance  were  two  doves  billing. 

After  having  admired  till  night-fall  this  charm- 
ing little  garden,  I  took  a  fancy  to  visit  the  ruin 
of  the  old  church,  which  is  dedicated  to  St. 
Werner,  who  suffered  martyrdom  at  Oberwesel. 
I  reached  the  first  flight  of  steps,  which  were 
covered  with  grass,  looked  round,  admired  the 
heavens,  from  which  sufficient  light  came  to  en- 
able me  to  see  the  old  palatine  castle  in  ruins; 
then  my  eyes  fell  upon  my  charming  garden  of 
children,  birds,  doves,  bees,  butterflies,  and  music 
—my  garden  of  life,  of  love,  and  of  joy, — and  I 
discovered  that  it  was  a  cemetery. 


Lorch.  157 


CHAPTER     XIX. 

"  FIRE  !    FIRE  !  " 

Lorch. — An    Incident. — Combat    of    the  Hydra   and    Dragon. — 
The  Hotel  P at  Lorch. 

WHEN  twelve  strikes  at  Bacharach  we  go 
to  bed — we  shut  our  eyes — we  try  to 
dispel  the  thoughts  of  day — we  come  to  that 
state  when  we  have,  at  the  same  time,  some- 
thing awake,  and  something  asleep — when  the 
fatigued  body  reposes,  and  when  the  wayward 
mind  is  still  at  labor.  When  thus,  between 
the  mind  and  body  we  are  neither  asleep  nor 
awake,  a  noise  suddenly  disturbs  the  shades  of 
night — an  inexpressible,  a  singular  noise, — a  kind 
of  faint  murmuring — at  once  menacing  and 
plaintive,  which  mingles  with  the  night  wind, 
and  seems  to  come  from  the  high  cemetery 
situated  above  the  village.  You  awake,  jump 
up,  and  listen.  What  is  that?  It  is  the  watch- 
man blowing  his  trumpet  to  assure  the  in- 
habitants that  all  is  well,  and  that  they  may 
sleep  without  fear.  Be  it  so  ;  still,  I  think  it  im- 
possible to  adopt  a  more  frightful  method. 

At  Lorch  a  person  might  be  awoke  out  of  his 


The  Rhine. 


sleep  in  a  manner  still  more  dramatical ;  but,  my 
friend,  let  me  first  tell  you  what  sort  of  a  place 
Lorch  is. 

Lorch,  a  large  borough,  containing  about 
eighteen  hundred  inhabitants,  is  situated  upon 
the  right  bank  of  the  Rhine,  and  extends  as  far 
as  the  mouth  of  the  Wisper.  It  is  the  valley  of 
legends, — it  is  the  country  of  fairies.  Lorch 
is  situated  at  the  foot  of  the  Devil's  Ladder,  a 
high  rock,  almost  perpendicular,  which  the  val- 
iant Gilgen  clambered  when  in  search  of  his  be- 
trothed, who  was  hidden  by  the  gnomes  on  the 
summit  of  a  mountain.  It  was  at  Lorch  that  the 
fairy  Ave  invented — so  say  the  legends — the  art 
of  weaving,  in  order  to  clothe  her  lover  Heppius. 
The  first  red  wine  of  the  Rhine  was  made  here. 
Lorch  existed  before  Charlemagne,  and  it  has 
left  a  date  in  its  charter  as  far  back  as  732. 
Henry  the  Third,  Archbishop  of  Mayence,  re- 
sided here  in  1348.  At  present  there  are  neither 
Roman  cavaliers,  nor  fairies,  nor  archbishops ; 
yet  the  little  town  is  happy,  the  scenery  is  de- 
lightful, and  the  inhabitants  are  hospitable.  The 
lovely  house  of  the  Renaissance,  on  the  border  of 
the  Rhine,  has  a  facade  as  original  and  as  rich  in 
its  kind  as  that  of  the  French  manor  of  Meillan. 
The  fortress,  teeming  with  legends  of  old  Sibo, 
protects,  as  it  were,  the  borough  from  the  his- 
torical castle  of  Furstemburg,  which  menaces  it 


Lorch.  159 

with  its  huge  tower.  There  is  nothing  more 
charming  than  to  see  this  smiling  little  colony  of 
peasants  prospering  beneath  those  two  frightful 
skeletons,  which  were  once  citadels. 

A  week  ago,  perhaps  it  was  about  one  in  the 
morning,  I  was  writing  in  my  room,  when  sud- 
denly I  perceived  the  paper  under  my  pen 
become  red,  and,  on  lifting  my  eyes,  I  dis- 
covered that  the  light  did  not  proceed  from  my 
lamp,  but  from  my  window,  while  a  strange 
humming  noise  rose  around  me.  I  hastened  to 
ascertain  the  cause.  An  immense  volume  of 
flame  and  smoke  was  issuing  from  the  roof  above 
my  head,  making  a  frightful  noise.  It  was  the 

hotel  P ,  the  house  adjoining  mine,  which 

had  taken  fire. 

In  an  instant  the  inmates  of  the  auberge  were 
awake,  all  the  village  was  astir,  and  the  cry  of 
"Fire!  fire!"  was  heard  in  every  street.  I  shut 
my  window,  and  opened  the  door.  The  large 
wooden  staircase  of  my  hotel,  which  had  two 
windows,  almost  touched  the  burning  house,  and 
seemed  also  to  be  in  flames.  From  the  top  to 
the  bottom  of  the  stairs,  a  crowd  of  shadows, 
loaded  with  divers  things,  was  seen  pressing, 
jostling,  and  making  way,  with  all  possible  speed, 
either  to  the  top  or  to  the  bottom.  It  was  the 
inmates  of  the  auberge  removing  their  effects, — 
one  nearly  naked,  this  one  in  drawers,  that  one 


160  The  Rhine. 


in  his  shirt ;  they  seemed  scarcely  awake.  No 
one  cried  out — no  one  spoke.  It  was  like  the 
humming  of  an  ant-hillock. 

As  for  me, — for  each  thinks  of  himself  at  such 
a  time, — I  had  little  luggage.  I  lodged  on  the 
first  floor,  therefore  ran  no  other  risk  than  that 
of  being  forced  to  make  my  escape  by  the 
window. 

In  the  meanwhile,  a  storm  arose,  and  the  rain 
came  down  in  torrents.  As  it  always  happens, 
the  more  haste  the  less  speed.  A  moment  of 
frightful  confusion  ensued  ;  some  wished  to 
enter,  others  to  go  out :  drawers  and  tables, 
attached  to  ropes,  were  lowered  from  the  win- 
dows ;  and  mattrasses,  nightcaps,  and  bundles 
of  linen,  were  thrown  from  the  top  of  the  house 
on  to  the  pavement.  Women  were  wringing 
their  hands  in  despair,  and  children  crying. 
Just  as  the  fire  gained  the  granary,  the  fire- 
engines  arrived.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  give 
an  idea  of  the  rage  with  which  the  water  at- 
tacked its  enemy.  No  sooner  had  the  pipes 
passed  over  the  wall  than  a  hissing  sound  was 
heard ;  and  the  flames,  on  which  a  stream  of 
molten  steel  seemed  pouring,  roared,  became 
erect,  leaped  frightfully,  opened  horrible  mouths, 
and  with  its  innumerable  tongues,  licked  at  once 
all  the  doors  and  windows  of  the  burning  edifice. 
The  vapor  mingled  with  the  smoke,  volumes  of 


Lorch.  161 

which  were  dispersed  with  every  breath  of  wind, 
and  lost  themselves,  twisting  and  wreathing,  in 
the  darkness  of  the  night,  whilst  the  hissing  of 
the  water  responded  to  the  roaring  of  the  fire. 
There  is  nothing  more  terrible  and  more  grand 
than  the  awful  combat  of  the  hydre  and  dragon. 

The  strength  of  the  water  forced  up  in  col- 
umns by  the  engines  was  extraordinary;  the 
slates  and  bricks  on  which  it  alighted,  broke  and 
were  scattered  by  its  force.  When  the  timber- 
works  gave  way  the  sight  was  grand.  Amidst 
noise  and  smoke,  myriads  of  sparks  issued  from 
the  flames.  For  a  few  minutes  a  chimney-stack 
stood  alone  upon  the  house,  like  a  kind  of  stone 
tower;  but  no  sooner  was  the  pipe  pointed  to- 
wards it  than  it  fell  heavily  into  the  gulf.  The 
Rhine,  the  villages,  the  mountains,  the  ruins — all 
the  spectres  of  the  country — were  observable 
amidst  the  smoke,  and  flames,  and  storm.  It 
was  truly  a  frightful  sight,  yet  it  had  something 
of  sublimity  in  it. 

If  looked  at  in  detail,  nothing  more  singular 
than  to  see,  at  intervals,  amongst  smoke  and 
flame,  heads  of  men  appearing  everywhere. 
These  men  were  directing  the  water-pipes  on 
the  flames,  which  jumped,  advanced,  and  re- 
ceded. Large  blocks  of  wood-work  were  de- 
tached from  the  roof,  and  hung  dangling  by  a 
nail,  while  others  fell  amidst  noise  and  sparks. 


1 62  The  Rhine. 


In  the  interior  of  the  apartments  the  decorated 
paper  of  the  walls  appeared  and  disappeared 
with  every  blast  of  the  wind.  There  was  upon 
the  wall  of  the  third  floor  a  picture  of  Louis  XV., 
surrounded  with  shepherds  and  shepherdesses. 
I  watched  this  landscape  with  particular  interest. 
For  some  time  it  withstood  the  fire ;  but  at  last 
one  body  of  flame  entered  the  room,  stretched 
forth  one  of  its  tongues,  and  seized  the  land- 
scape ; — the  females  embraced  the  males;  Tircis 
cajoled  Glycere ;  then  all  disappeared  in  smoke. 

A  short  distance  from  the  auberge  was  a  group 
of  half-naked  English  with  pale  countenances, 
and  looks  expressive  of  bewilderment.  They 
were  standing  by  the  goods  which  had  been 
providentially  saved.  On  their  left  was  an  as- 
semblage of  all  the  children  of  the  place,  who 
laughed  on  seeing  a  block  of  wood  precipitated 
into  the  burning  element,  and  clapped  their 
hands  every  time  the  water-works  happened  to 
play  amongst  them.  Such  was  the  fire  of  the 
hotel  P ,  at  Lorch. 

A  house  on  fire  is  at  best  a  house  burning; 
but,  what  is  still  more  melancholy,  a  man  lost 
his  life  at  it,  while  in  the  act  of  doing  good  to 
others. 

About  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  people 
became  what  is  generally  termed  masters  of  the 
fire,  and  succeeded  in  confining  the  flames  to  the 


Lorch.  163 

Hotel  P ,  thus  saving  ours.  A  host  of  ser- 
vants, brushing,  scraping,  rubbing,  and  sponging, 
attacked  the  rooms,  and  in  less  than  an  hour  our 
inn  was  washed  from  top  to  bottom.  One  thing 
is  remarkable — nothing  was  stolen !  All  the 
goods,  removed  in  haste  amidst  the  rain,  in  the 
dead  of  the  night,  were  scrupulously  carried 
back  by  the  poor  peasants  of  Lorch. 

Next  morning  I  was  surprised  to  see,  on  the 
ground-floor  of  the  inn  that  was  burnt,  two  or 
three  rooms  perfectly  entire,  which  did  not  seem 
to  be  the  least  disordered  by  the  fire  that  had 
raged  above  them.  Apropos  of  this  fact,  the  fol- 
lowing story  passes  current  in  this  country. 

A  few  years  ago  an  Englishman  arrived  some- 
what late  at  an  inn  at  Braubach,  supped,  and 
went  to  bed.  In  the  middle  of  the  night  the 
auberge  took  fire.  The  servants  entered  the 
apartment  of  the  Englishman,  and  finding  him 
asleep,  awoke  him,  told  him  what  happened,  and 
that  he  must  make  all  speed  out  of  the  house. 

"To  the  d — 1  with  you!  "  said  the  Englishman, 
not  at  all  pleased  with  his  nocturnal  visitants. 
'*-  You  awake  me  for  that !  Leave  me  alone  ;  I 
am  fatigued,  and  will  not  get  up !  you  seem  to 
be  a  parcel  of  fools,  to  imagine  that  I  am  going 
to  run  through  the  fields  in  my  shirt  at  such  an 
hour  as  this !  Nine  hours  is  the  amount  of  time 
that  I  allow  for  rest.  Put  out  the  fire  the  best 


164  The  Rhine. 


way  you  can  !  As  for  me,  I  am  very  well  in  bed, 
where  I  intend  to  remain.  Good  night !  I  will 
see  you  to-morrow.'* 

No  sooner  had  he  said  so  than  he  turned  his 
back  upon  the  servants,  and  fell  fast  asleep. 
What  was  to  be  done  ?  The  fire  gained  ground  ; 
and  the  inmates,  to  save  themselves,  fled,  after 
shutting  the  door  upon  the  Englishman,  who 
was  soundly  sleeping,  and  snoring  tremendously. 
The  fire  was  terrible,  but  at  last  was,  with  great 
difficulty,  extinguished.  Next  morning,  the  men 
who  were  clearing  the  rubbish  came  to  the  cham- 
ber of  the  Englishman,  opened  the  door,  and 
found  him  in  bed.  On  perceiving  them  he  said, 
yawning — 

"Can  you  tell  me  if  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a 
boot-hook  in  this  house?" 

He  rose,  breakfasted  heartily,  and  appeared 
quite  refreshed — a  circumstance  greatly  to  the  dis-' 
pleasure  of  the  lads  of  the  place,  who  had  made 
up  their  minds  to  make  what  is  called  in  the 
valley  of  the  Rhine  a  bourgmestre  sec  with  the 
Englishman — that  is  a  smoked  corpse  ;  which 
they  show  to  strangers  for  a  few  liards. 


Tr creeling  en  Foot.  165 


CHAPTER     XX. 

FROM     L  O  R  C  II     TO     B  I  N  G  E  N  . 

Traveling  on  Foot  ;  its  Advantages  aad  Pleasures.  —  The 
Strange  Reficontre. — A  Dangerous  Spectator. — The  Expli- 
cation.— Actors  on  a  Holiday. — Marvelous  Fact.-;,  and  their 
Connection  \vith  the  "  Holiday  of  a  Managerie." — Furstcm- 
burg  Castle. — The  Three  Brothers,  Cadenet,  Luynes,  and 
Bradnes.  —  The  Three  Students. —  Sublimity  of  Nature. — 
Ruin. — The  Enigma. — Falkenbnrg  Castle. — The  Blooming 
Group. — Stella. — Gantrum  and  Liba. — Pvlausethurm. — liatto 
and  the  Legend  of  the  Rats. 

LORCH  is  about  four  French  leagues  from 
Bingen.     You  are  well  aware  of  my  taste. 
Whenever    an    opportunity  is    offered,    I    never 
neglect  converting    my  excursion    into  a  prom- 
enade. 

Nothing  to  me  is  more  pleasing  than  traveling 
on  foot.  We  are  free  and  joyous.  No  break- 
ing down  of  wheels,  no  contingencies  attendant 
on  carriages.  We  set  out ;  stop  when  it  suits  us; 
breakfast  at  a  farm  or  under  a  tree  ;  walk  on, 
and  dream  while  walking — for  traveling  cradles 
reverie,  reverie  veils  fatigue,  and  the  beauty  of 
the  country  hides  the  length  of  the  road.  We 
are  not  traveling — we  wander.  Then  we  stop 
under  the  shade  of  a  tree,  by  the  side  of  a  little 


1 66  The  Rhine. 


rivulet,  whose  rippling  waters  harmonize  with  the 
songs  of  the  birds  that  load  the  branches  over 
our  heads.  I  saw  with  compassion  a  diligence 
pass  before  me,  enveloped  in  dust,  and  contain- 
ing tired,  screwed-up  and  fatigued  passengers. 
Strange  that  those  poor  creatures,  who  are  often 
persons  of  mind,  should  willingly  consent  to  be 
shut  up  in  a  place  where  the  harmony  of  the 
country  sounds  only  in  noise,  the  sun  appears  to 
them  in  clouds,  and  the  roads  in  whirlwinds  of 
dust.  They  are  not  aware  of  the  flowers  that 
are  found  in  thickets,  of  the  pearls  that  are 
picked  up  amongst  pebbles,  of  the  Houris  that 
the  fertile  imagination  discovers  in  landscapes  ! — 
musa  pedestris.  Everything  comes  to  the  foot- 
passenger.  Adventures  are  ever  passing  before 
his  eyes. 

I  remember  being,  some  seven  or  eight  years 
ago,  at  Claye,  which  is  a  few  leagues  from  Paris. 
I  will  transcribe  the  lines  which  I  found  in  my 
note-book,  for  they  are  connected  with  the  story 
that  I  am  going  to  relate. 

"  A  canal  for  a  ground-floor,  a  cemetery  for  a 
first,  and  a  few  houses  for  a  second — such  is 
Claye.  The  cemetery  forms  a  terrace  over  the 
canal ;  thus  affording  the  manes  of  the  peasants 
of  Claye  a  probable  chance  of  being  serenaded 
by  the  mail-packet  which  runs  from  Paris  to 
Meaux." 


A  Dangerous  Spectator.  167 

I  was  returning  to  Paris  on  foot,  and  had  set 
out  early:  the  trees  of  the  forest  of  Bondy 
tempted  me  to  go  by  a  road  which  had  a  sharp 
turning,  where  I  seated  myself— my  back  against 
an  oak,  my  feet  hanging  over  a  ditch — and  began 
to  write  in  my  green-book  the  note  which  you 
have  just  read.  As  I  was  finishing  the  fourth  line 
I  lifted  my  eyes,  and  perceived,  not  many  yards 
from  where  I  was,  a  bear,  with  its  eye  fixed  upon 
me.  In  broad  daylight  we  have  no  nightmares, 
nor  can  we  be  dupes  enough  to  take  the  stump 
of  a  tree  for  something  supernatural.  At  night, 
things  may  change  in  appearance ;  but  at  noon, 
with  a  May  sun  over  our  heads,  we  have  no  such 
hallucinations.  It  was  actually  a  bear — a  liv- 
ing bear — a  hideous  looking  animal,  which  was 
seated  on  its  hind  legs,  with  its  fore  paws  crossed 
over  its  belly.  One  of  its  ears  was  torn,  as  also 
was  its  under-lip :  it  had  only  one  eye,  with 
which  it  looked  at  me  attentively.  There  was 
no  woodman  at  hand — all  around  me  was  silent 
and  deserted.  I  must  say  that  I  felt  a  strange 
sensation.  Sometimes,  when  chance  brings  us 
into  contact  with  a  strange  dog,  we  manage  to 
get  over  the  difficulty  by  shouting  out  "  Fox," 
"Solomon,"  or  "  Asor;"  but  what  could  we  say 
to  a  bear?  Where  did  it  come  from ?  Why  such 
a  creature  in  the  forest  of  Bondy,  upon  the  high- 
way from  Paris  to  Claye?  It  was  strange,  un- 


1 68  The  Rhine. 


reasonable,  and  anything  but  pleasing.  I  moved 
not;  I  must  also  say  that  the  bear  did  not  move, 
a  circumstance  which  appeared  to  me  somewhat 
lucky.  It  looked  at  me  as  tenderly  as  a  bear 
could  well  do  with  one  eye ;  it  opened  its  mouth, 
not  in  ferocity,  but  yawningly.  This  bear  had 
something  of  peace,  of  resignation,  and  of  drow- 
siness ;  and  I  found  a  likeness  in  its  physiog- 
nomy to  those  old  stagers  that  listen  to  trage- 
dies. In  fact,  its  countenance  pleased  me  so 
much  that  I  resolved  to  put  as  good  a  face  upon 
the  matter  as  I  could.  I  therefore  accepted  it 
for  a  spectator,  and  continued  what  I  had  begun. 
I  then  wrote  the  fifth  line  in  my  book ;  which 
line  is  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the  fourth, 
for,  on  beginning  it,  I  had  my  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  eye  of  the  bear. 

Whilst  I  was  writing  a  large  fly  lighted  on  the 
bleeding  ear  of  my  spectator.  It  slowly  lifted  its 
right  paw,  and  passed  it  leisurely  over  its  ear,  as 
a  cat  might  do.  The  fly  took  to  its  wings ;  the 
bear  looked  after  it:  then  he  seized  his  hind  legs 
with  his  fore  paws,  and,  as  if  satisfied  with  that 
classic  attitude,  began  again  to  watch  me.  I 
admit  that  I  observed  his  movements  with  no 
slight  degree  of  interest. 

Just  as  I  was  about  to  begin  the  sixth  line,  I 
heard  a  sound  of  feet  on  the  high  road,  and  sud- 
denly I  perceived  another  bear,  a  huge,  black 


An  Adventure.  169 


animal,  which  had  no  sooner  fixed  its  eyes  upon 
the  former  than  it  ran  up  to  it  and  rolled  gra- 
ciously at  its  feet.  The  first  was  a  she-bear,  and 
did  not  deign  to  look  upon  the  black  one ;  and 
fortunately  the  latter  paid  no  attention  to  me. 

I  confess  that  at  this  new  apparition,  which 
was  somewhat  perplexing,  my  hand  trembled.  I 
was  then  writing,  "  Claye,  a  probable  chance  of 
being  serenaded"  In  my  manuscript  I  see  there 
is  a  great  space  between  the  words  "probable 
chance"  and  " of  being  serenaded"  That  space 
signifies — "  a  second  bear !  " 

Two  bears!  What  did  all  this  mean?  Judg- 
ing from  the  direction  the  black  one  came,  it  was 
natural  to  imagine  that  it  was  from  Paris ;  a  city 
little  abounding  with  betes,  at  least  of  such  sav- 
age natures. 

I  remained  petrified — bewildered — with  my 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  hideous  animals,  which  be- 
gan to  roll  lovingly  in  the  dust.  I  rose,  and  was 
making  up  my  mind  whether  I  should  pick  up 
my  cane,  which  had  fallen  into  the  ditch,  when 
another  appeared,  less  in  size,  more  deformed, 
and  bleeding  like  the  first ;  then  came  a  fourth,  a 
fifth,  and  a  sixth.  The  last  four  walked  along 
the  road  like  soldiers  on  the  march.  This  was 
truly  inexplicable.  A  moment  afterwards  I  heard 
the  shouting  of  men,  mingling  with  the  barking 
of  dogs ;  then  I  beheld  ten  or  twelve  bull-dogs, 


170  The  Rhine. 


and  seven  or  eight  men :  the  latter  armed  with 
large  sticks,  tipped  with  iron,  and  carrying  muz- 
zles in  their  hands.  One  of  them  stopped,  and, 
whilst  the  others  collected  and  muzzled  the  ani- 
mals, he  explained  to  me  this  strange  enigma. 
The  master  of  the  Circus  of  the  Barriere  du 
Combat,  profiting  by  the  Easter  devotions,  was 
sending  his  bears  and  dogs  to  Meaux,  where  he 
intended  giving  a  few  exhibitions.  All  these  an- 
imals traveled  on  foot,  and  had  been  unmuzzled 
at  the  last  stage,  to  afford  them  an  opportunity 
of  eating  by  the  roadside.  Whilst  the  keepers 
were  comfortably  seated  in  a  neighboring  cabaret, 
the  bears,  finding  themselves  alone,  joyous  of 
liberty,  stole  a  march  upon  their  masters. 

Such  was  one  of  the  adventures  of  my  pe- 
destrian excursions — the  rencontre  of  "  actors  " 
on  a  half-holiday. 

Dante,  in  the  commencement  of  his  poem, 
states  that  he  met  one  day  a  panther  in  a  wood  ; 
after  which,  a  lion ;  then  a  bear.  If  we  give 
credit  to  tradition,  the  Seven  Wise  Men  of 
Greece  had  similar  adventures.  Thales,  of  Milet, 
was,  for  a  long  time,  followed  by  a  griffon  ;  Bias 
de  Priene  walked  side  by  side  with  a  lynx; 
Solon,  of  Athens,  bravely  confronted  a  mad  bull; 
Cleobulus,  of  Rhodes,  met  a  lion ;  and  Chilo,  of 
Macedonia,  a  lioness.  All  these  marvelous  facts, 
if  properly  examined,  might  be  found  to  have 


From  Lorch  to  Bingen.  171 

some  connection  with  the  "  holiday "  of  a 
menagerie.  If  I  had  related  my  story  of  the 
bears  in  a  manner  more  redounding  to  my  valor, 
perhaps  in  a  few  hundred  years  I  should  have 
passed  for  a  second  Orpheus.  Dictus  ob  hoc 
lenire  tigres.  You  perceive,  my  friend,  that  poor 
"acting"  bears  give  rise  to  many  prodigies. 
Without  offense  to  the  ancient  poets  or  Greek 
philosophers,  I  must  confess  that,  to  me,  a 
strophe  would  be  but  a  feeble  weapon  against  a 
leopard,  or  the  power  of  a  syllogism  against  a 
hyena.  Man  has  found  the  secret  of  degrading 
the  lion  and  the  tiger — of  adding  stupidity  to 
ferocity.  Perhaps  it  is  well :  for,  had  it  not 
been  so,  I  should  have  been  devoured ;  and  the 
Seven  Wise  Men  of  Greece  would  have  shared 
the  same  fate. 

Since  my  boyhood  I  have  always  derived  ex- 
treme delight  from  traveling  on  foot,  for  in  many 
of  my  pedestrian  trips  I  have  met  with  adven- 
tures which  have  left  a  pleasing  impression  be- 
hind. 

The  other  day,  about  half-past  five  in  the 
morning,  after  having  given  orders  for  my  lug- 
gage to  be  transported  to  Bingen,  I  left  Lorch, 
and  took  a  boat  to  convey  me  to  the  other  side 
of  the  river.  If  you  should  ever  be  here,  do  the 
same.  The  Roman  and  Gothic  ruins  of  the 
right  bank  are  much  more  interesting  to  the 


1/2  The  Rhine. 


traveler  than  the  slate-roofed  houses  of  the  left. 
At  six  I  was  seated,  after  a  somewhat  difficult 
ascent,  upon  the  summit  of  a  heap  of  extin- 
guished lava,  which  overlooks  Furstemburg 
Castle  and  the  valley  of  Diebach.  After  view- 
ing the  old  castle,  which  in  1321,  1632,  and  1689, 
was  the  seat  of  European  struggles,  I  de- 
scended. I  left  the  village,  and  was  walking 
joyously  along,  when  I  met  three  painters,  with 
whom  I  exchanged  a  friendly  "  good  day." 
Every  time  that  I  see  three  young  men  traveling 
on  foot,  whose  shining  eye-balls  reflect  the  fairy- 
land of  the  future,  I  cannot  prevent  myself  from 
wishing  that  their  chimeras  may  be  realized, 
and  from  thinking  of  the  three  brothers,  Cade- 
net,  Luynes,  and  Brandes,  who,  two  hundred 
years  ago,  set  out  one  beautiful  morning  for  the 
court  of  Henry  IV.,  having  amongst  them  only 
one  mantle,  which  each  wore  in  turn.  Fifteen 
years  afterwards,  under  Louis  XIII.,  one  of 
them  became  Duke  of  Chaulnes ;  the  second, 
Constable  of  France;  and  the  third,  Duke  of 
Luxembourg!  Dream  on,  then,  young  men — 
persevere  ! 

Traveling  by  threes  seems  to  be  the  fashkm 
upon  the  borders  of  the  Rhine,  for  I  had  scarcely 
reached  Neiderheimbach  when  I  met  three  more 
walking  together. 

They  were  evidently  students  of  some  of  those 


Neiderheimbach.  1 73 


noble  universities  which  tend  so  much  to  civilize 
Germany.  They  wore  classic  caps,  had  long 
hair,  tight  frock-coats,  sticks  in  their  hands, 
pipes  in  their  mouths,  and,  like  painters,  wallets 
on  their  backs.  They  appeared  to  be  conversing 
with  warmth,  and  were  apparently  going  to 
Bacharach.  In  passing,  one  of  them  cried  out, 
on  saluting  me — 

"Die  nobis  domine,  in  qua  par  te  cor  ports  animam 
veteres  locant  philosophi?  " 

I  returned  the  salutation,  and  replied,"/?/  corde 
Plato,  in  sanquine  Empedocles,  inter  duo  supercilia 
Lucretius." 

The  three  young  men  smiled,  and  the  eldest 
shouted — "Vivat  Gallia  regina!"  I  replied, 
4<  Vivat  Germania  mater!"  We  then  saluted 
each  other,  and  passed  on. 

Above  Neiderheimbach  is  the  sombre  forest 
of  Sann,  where,  hid  among  trees,  are  two 
fortresses  in  ruins  ;  the  one,  that  of  Heimburg, 
a  Roman  castle ;  the  other,  Sonneck,  once  the 
abode  of  brigands.  The  Emperor  demolished 
Sonneck  in  1212;  time  has  since  crumbled  Heim- 
burg. A  ruin  still  more  awe-striking  is  hid 
among  the  mountains — it  is  called  Falkenburg. 

I  had,  as  I  have  already  stated,  left  the  village 
behind  me.  An  ardent  sun  was  above,  but  the 
fresh  bree/.e  from  the  river  cooled  the  air  around. 
To  my  right,  between  two  rocks,  was  the  narrow 


1/4  The  Rhine. 


entry  of  a  charming  ravine,  abounding  with 
shadows.  Swarms  of  little  birds  were  chirping 
joyously,  and  in  love  chasing  each  other  amongst 
the  leaves ;  a  streamlet,  swollen  by  the  rains, 
dashed,  torrent-like,  over  the  herbage,  frightened 
the  insects,  and,  when  falling  from  stone  to  stone, 
formed  little  cascades  among  the  pebbles.  I  dis- 
covered along  this  stream,  in  the  darkness  which 
the  trees  shed  around,  a  road,  that  a  thousand 
wild  flowers — the  water-lily,  the  amaranth,  the 
everlasting,  the  iris — hide  from  the  profane  and 
deck  for  the  poet.  There  are  moments  when  I 
almost  believe  in  the  intelligence  of  inanimate 
things :  it  appeared  to  me  as  if  I  heard  a  thou- 
sand voices  exclaim — 

"  Where  goest  thou  ?  Seekest  thou  places 
untrod  by  human  foot,  but  where  Divinity  has 
left  its  trace?  Thou  wishest  thy  soul  to  com- 
mune with  solitude ;  thou  wishest  light  and 
shadow,  murmurings  and  peace,  changes  and 
serenity;  thou  wishest  the  place  where  the  Word 
is  heard  in  silence,  where  thou  seest  life  on  the 
surface  and  eternity  at  the  bottom ;  thou  lovest 
the  desert ;  thou  hatest  not  man ;  thou  seekest 
the  greensward,  the  moss,  the  humid  leaves,  tall 
branches,  birds  which  warble,  running  waters, 
perfume  mingling  with  the  air.  Well,  enter: 
this  is  thy  way."  It  required  no  considera- 
tion. I  entered  the  ravine. 


Sublimity  of  Nature.  175 

To  tell  you  all  that  I  did  there,  or,  rather, 
what  solitude  did  for  me— how  the  wasps  buzzed 
round  the  violets,  how  the  wings  of  birds  rustled 
among  the  leaves — that  which  startled  in  the 
moss,  that  which  chirped  in  the  nest,  the  soft  and 
indistinct  sound  of  vegetation,  the  beauty  of  the 
bull-fly,  the  activity  of  the  bee,  the  patience  of 
the  spider,  the  opening  of  flowers,  the  lamenta- 
tions, the  distant  cries,  the  struggling  of  insect 
with  insect,  the  exhalations  of  the  rocks,  which, 
sighingly,  reached  the  ear — the  rays  of  Heaven, 
which  pierced  through  the  trees, — the  drops  of 
water  that  fell,  like  tears,  from  flowers — the  half 
revelations  which  came  from  the  calm,  harmo- 
nious, slow,  and  continued  labor  of  all  those 
creatures  and  of  all  those  things  which  are  more 
in  connection  with  God  than  with  man  ; — to  tell 
you  all  that,  my  friend,  would  be  to  express  the 
ineffable,  to  show  the  invisible,  to  paint  infinity! 
What  did  I  do  there  ?  I  no  longer  know.  As  in 
the  ravine  of  Saint  Goarshausen,  I  wandered,  ru- 
minated :  and,  in  adoring,  prayed !  What  was  I 
thinking  of?  Do  not  ask  me.  There  are  mo- 
ments when  our  thoughts  float  as  drowned  in  a 
thousand  confused  ideas. 

I  at  last  reached — I  do  not  know  how — the 
summit  of  a  very  high  hill,  covered  with  short 
broom.  In  all  my  excursions  upon  the  banks  of 
the  Rhine,  I  saw  nothing  so  beautiful.  As  far  as 


176  The  Rhine. 


the  eye  could  reach  were  prairies,  waters,  and 
magic  forests  resembling  bunches  of  green  feath- 
ers. It  was  one  of  those  places  where  we  im- 
agine we  see  the  tail  of  that  magnificent  peacock 
which  we  call  Nature. 

Behind  the  hill  on  which  I  was  seated,  on  the 
summit  of  a  mount  covered  with  fir  and  chestnut 
trees,  I  perceived  a  sombre  ruin,  a  colossal  heap 
of  brown  basalt,  in  the  form  of  a  citadel.  What 
castle  was  it?  I  could  not  tell,  for  I  did  not 
know  where  I  was.  To  examine  a  ruin  at  hand 
is  my  manie ;  therefore,  at  the  expiration  of  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  I  was  wandering  through  it, 
searching,  foraging,  and  turning  over  huge  stones, 
with  the  hope  of  finding  an  inscription  which 
would  throw  some  light  upon  this  venerable 
ruin. 

On  leaving  the  lower  chamber,  the  corner  of  a 
stone,  one  end  buried  in  the  rubbish,  struck  my 
view.  I  immediately  stooped,  and  with  my  hands 
and  feet  cleared  everything  away,  under  the  im- 
pression of  finding  upon  it  the  name  of  this  mys- 
terious ruin.  On  this  large  block  of  stone,  the 
figure  of  a  man,  clothed  in  armor,  but  without  a 
head,  was  sculptured,  and  under  his  feet  were  the 
following  lines: 
"Vox  TACVIT  PERIIT  LUX.  Nox  RVIT  ET  RVIT  VMBRA  VIR 

CARET   IN  TVMBA   QVO   CARET   EFFIGIES." 

I    was    still    in    ignorance.     This   castle   was   an 


The  Statue. 


enigma.  I  had  sought  for  words.  I  had  found 
them  :  that  is,  an  inscription  without  a  date— an 
epitaph  without  a  name — a  statue  without  a 
head.  While  buried  in  reflection,  a  distinct 
sound  of  voices  reached  me.  I  listened.  It  was 
a  quick  dialogue,  a  few  words  only  of  which  I 
could  distinguish  amid  the  shouts  of  laughter 
and  of  joy.  These  were — "  Fall  of  the  mountain 
— Subterranean  passage —  Very  bad  footpath."  On 
rising  from  the  tombstone,  I  beheld  three  young 
girls,  clothed  in  white,  with  fair  faces,  smiling 
cheeks,  and  bright  blue  eyes.  Nothing  could  be 
more  magical,  more  charming,  for  a  reveur,  so 
situated,  than  this  apparition.  It  would  have 
been  pardonable  for  a  poet  to  have  taken  them 
for  angels,  or  saints  of  Heaven ;  I  must  affirm 
that,  to  me,  they  were  three  English  girls. 

It  suddenly  crossed  my  mind  that  by  profit- 
ing by  these  angels  I  might  find,  without  further 
trouble,  the  name  of  the  castle.  They  spoke 
English ;  therefore,  I  concluded  that  they  be- 
longed to  that  country.  To  give  me  counte- 
nance, I  opened  my  portfolio,  called  to  my  aid 
the  little  English  of  which  I  was  master,  then 
began  to  look  into  the  ravine,  murmuring  to  my- 
self—" Beautiful  view  !  Very  fine  !  Very  pretty 
waterfall!"  &c.,  &c. 

The  young  girls,  surprised  at  my  sudden  ap- 
pearance, began,  while  stifling  their  laughs,  to 
8* 


178  The  Rhine. 


whisper  to  each  other.  They  looked  charming, 
but  were  evidently  laughing  at  me.  I  sum- 
moned up  courage,  advanced  a  few  steps  towards 
the  blooming  group,  which  remained  stationary, 
and  saluting,  with  my  most  gracious  air,  the 
eldest  of  the  three,  uttered — 

"  What,  if  you  please,  is  the  name  of  this 
castle?" 

The  sweet  girl  smiled,  looked  at  her  two 
companions,  and,  slightly  blushing,  replied  in 
French — 

"  I  believe,  Sir,  it  is  called  Falkenburg.  At 
least,  a  French  gentleman,  who  is  now  speaking 
with  my  father  in  the  Grand  Tower,  said  so.  If 
you  will  take  the  trouble  to  go  round  that  way, 
Sir,  you  will  meet  them."  These  words,  so  much 
to  the  point,  and  spoken  with  a  pure  French 
accent,  sufficed  to  convince  me  of  my  mistake ; 
but  the  charming  creature  took  the  trouble  of 
adding — 

"We  are  not  English,  Sir;  we  are  French; 
and  you  are  from  France !  " 

"  How  do  you  know,  Miss,"  I  replied,  "that  I 
am  a  Frenchman?" 

"  By  your  English,"  the  youngest  replied. 

The  eldest  sister  looked  at  her  with  an  air  of 
severity — that  is,  if  beauty,  grace,  youth,  inno- 
cence, and  joy,  can  have  a  severe  air.  For  my 
part,  I  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter. 


The  Stat^le.  179 


"But,  young  ladies,"  I  said,  "  you,  yourselves, 
were  speaking  English  a  few  minutes  ago." 

"  It  was  only  for  amusement,"  the  younger 
replied. 

"  For  exercise,"  said  the  other  chidingly. 

This  flat  and  motherly  rectification  was  lost 
upon  the  young  girl,  who  ran  gayly  to  the  tomb- 
stone, raising  slightly  her  gown,  on  account  of 
the  stones,  and  displaying  the  prettiest  foot 
imaginable.  "  Oh  !  "  she  cried,  "  come  and  see 
this.  It  is  a  statue — it  has  no  head — it  is  a 
man  ! " 

The  other  two  joined  their  sister  ;  and  a 
minute  afterwards  all  three  were  upon  the  tomb, 
the  sun  reflecting  their  handsome  profiles  upon 
the  granite  spectre.  A  few  minutes  ago,  I  was 
asking  myself  the  names  of  these  young  girls ; 
and  I  cannot  tell  you  what  I  felt  when  seeing, 
thus  together,  these  two  mysteries,  the  one  full 
of  horror,  the  other  full  of  charms. 

By  listening  to  their  soft  whisperings,  I  dis- 
covered the  name  of  the  second.  She  was  the 
prettiest — a  true  princess  for  fairy  tales.  Her 
long  eyelashes  half  hid  the  bright  apple  of  her 
eye,  that  the  pure  light  penetrated.  She  was 
between  her  younger  and  her  elder  sister,  as 
pudeur  between  naivet6  and  grace,  bearing  a 
faint  resemblance  to  both.  She  looked  at  me 
twice,  but  spoke  not;  she  was  the  only  one  of 


i8o  The  Rhine. 


the  three  whose  voice  I  had  not  heard,  and  the 
only  one  whose  name  I  knew.  At  one  time  her 
younger  sister  said  to  her — "  Look,  Stella!"  I 
at  no  former  period  so  well  understood  all  that 
is  limpid,  luminous,  and  charming  in  that 
name. 

The  youngest  made  these  reflections  in  an 
audible  voice : — "  Poor  man  !  they  have  cut  his 
head  off.  It  was  then  the  time  when  they  took 
off  the  heads  of  men!"  Then  she  exclaimed — 
"O!  here's  the  epitaph.  It  is  Latin:  'Vox 
TACUIT  PERIIT  LUX.'  It  is  difficult  to  read.  I 
should  like  to  know  what  it  says." 

"  Let  us  go  for  father,"  said  the  eldest ;  "  he 
will  explain  it  to  us."  Thereupon  all  three 
bounded  away  like  fawns.  They  did  not  even 
deign  to  ask  me ;  and  I  was  somewhat  humbled 
on  thinking  that  my  English  had  given  them  a 
bad  opinion  of  my  Latin.  I  took  a  pencil,  and 
wrote  beneath  the  inscription  the  following 
translation  of  the  distich  : 

Dans  la  nuit  la  voix  se  tue, 
L'ombre  eteignit  le  flambleau. 
Ce  qui  manque  &  la  statue 
Manque  &  I'homme  en  son  tombeau. 

Just  as  I  was  finishing  the  last  line  I  heard  the 
young  girls  shouting — "  This  way,  father — this 
way  !  "  I  made  my  escape,  however,  before  they 
appeared.  Did  they  see  the  explanation  that  I 


Falkenburg.  181 


had  left  them?  I  do  not  know.  I  hastened  to 
a  different  part  of  the  ruin,  and  saw  them  no 
more.  Neither  did  I  hear  anything  further  of 
the  mysterious  decapitated  chevalier.  Sad  des- 
tiny! What  crimes  had  that  miserable  man  com- 
mitted? Man  had  bereft  him  of  life  ;  Providence 
had  added  to  that  forgetfulness.  His  statue  was 
deprived  of  a  head,  his  name  is  lost  to  legends, 
and  his  history  is  no  longer  in  the  memory  of 
man !  His  tombstone,  also,  will  soon  disappear. 
Some  vine-dressers  of  Sonneck,  or  of  Rupperts- 
berg,  will  take  it,  and  trample  upon  the  muti- 
lated skeleton  that  it  perhaps  still  covers,  break 
the  stone  in  two,  and  make  a  seat  of  it,  on  which 
peasants  will  sit,  old  women  knit,  and  children 
play.  In  our  days,  both  in  Germany  and  France, 
ruins  are  of  utility;  with  old  palaces  new  huts 
are  constructed. 

But,  my  friend,  allow  me  to  return  to  Falken- 
burg.  It  is  enough  for  me,  in  this  nest  of  le- 
gends, to  speak  of  this  old  tower,  still  erect  and 
proud,  though  its  interior  be  dilapidated.  If  you 
do  not  know  the  adventures  that  transpired  here 
— the  legends  that  abound  respecting  this  place 
— a  recital  of  a  few  of  them  may  amuse  you. 
One  in  particular, — that  of  Gantram  and  Liba, — 
starts  fresh  in  my  memory.  It  was  upon  this 
bridge  that  Gantram  and  Liba  met  two  men  car- 
rying a  coffin  ;  and  on  this  stair  that  Liba  threw 


1 82  The  Rhine. 


herself  into  her  lover's  arms,  saying  smilingly, — 
"A  coffin!  No,  it  is  the  nuptial  bed  that  you 
have  seen ! "  It  was  in  this  court,  at  present 
filled  with  hemlock,  in  flower,  that  Gantram, 
when  conducting  his  bride  to  the  altar,  saw — to 
him  alone  visible — a  man  clothed  in  black,  and  a 
woman  with  a  veil  over  her  face,  walking  before 
him.  It  was  in  this  Roman  chapel,  now  crumb- 
ling, where  living  lizards  now  creep  upon  those 
that  are  sculptured,  that,  when  Gantram  was  put- 
ting the  wedding-ring  upon  the  taper  finger  of 
his  bride,  he  suddenly  felt  the  cold  grasp  of  an 
unknown  hand — it  was  that  of  the  maiden  of  the 
castle,  who,  while  she  combed  her  hair,  had  sung, 
the  night  long,  near  an  open  and  empty  grave. 

I  remained  several  hours  in  these  ruins — a 
thousand  ideas  crowded  upon  me.  Spiritus  loci  / 
My  next  chapter  may  contain  them.  Hunger  also 
came  ;  but,  thanks  to  the  French  deer  that  a  fair 
voyageuse  whom  I  met  spoke  to  me  about,  I  was 
enabled  to  reach  a  village  on  the  borders  of  the 
Rhine,  which  is,  I  believe,  called  Trecktlings- 
hausen — the  ancient  Trajani  Castrum. 

All  that  is  here  in  the  shape  of  an  auberge  is  a 
taverne  b  btire ;  and  all  that  I  found  for  dinner 
was  a  tough  leg  of  mutton,  which  a  student,  who 
was  smoking  his  pipe  at  the  door,  tried  to  dis- 
suade me  from  eating,  by  saying  that  a  hungry 
Englishman,  who  had  been  an  hour  before  me, 


Ma  usethurm.  \  8  3 


had  tried  to  masticate  it,  but  had  left  off  in  dis- 
gust. I  did  not  reply  haughtily,  as  Marshal  de 
Crequi  did  before  the  fortress  of  Gayi — "  What 
Barberousse  cannot  take,  Barbegrise  will  take ;" 
but  I  ate  of  the  leg  of  mutton. 

I  set  out  as  the  sun  was  declining,  and  soon 
left  the  Gothic  chapel  of  St.  Clement  behind  me. 
My  road  lay  along  the  base  of  several  mountains. 
on  the  summits  of  which  were  situated  three  cas- 
tles— Reichenstein,  Rheinstein  (both  of  which 
were  demolished  by  Rodolph  of  Habsburg,  and 
rebuilt  by  the  Count  Palatine,  and  Vaugtsberg, 
inhabited  in  1348  by  Kuno  of  Falkenstein,  and 
repaired  by  Prince  Frederick  of  Prussia).  My 
thoughts  turned  upon  a  ruin  that  I  knew  lay  be- 
tween the  place  where  I  was  and  Bingen — a 
strange,  unsightly  ruin,  which,  between  the  con- 
flux of  the  Nahue  and  the  Rhine,  stands  erect  in 
the  middle  of  the  river. 

I  remember  from  childhood  a  picture  that 
some  German  servant  had  hung  above  my  bed  : 
it  represented  an  old,  isolated,  dilapidated  tower, 
surrounded  with  water ;  the  heavens  above  it 
were  dark,  and  covered  with  heavy  clouds.  In 
the  evenings,  after  having  offered  up  my  prayers 
to  God,  and  before  reposing,  I  looked  attentively 
at  the  picture.  In  the  dead  of  the  night  I  saw 
it  in  my  dreams,  and  then  it  was  terrible.  The 
tower  became  enormous,  the  lightning  flashed 


1 84  The  Rhine. 


from  the  clouds,  the  waters  roared,  the  wind 
whistled  among  the  mountains,  and  seemed 
every  moment  as  if  to  pluck  them  from  their 
base.  One  day  I  asked  the  servant  the  name  of 
the  tower,  and  she  replied,  making  the  sign  of 
the  cross  upon  her  forehead — "  Mausethurm." 
Afterwards  she  told  me  the  following  story : 

"  At  one  time  there  lived  at  Mayence  a  cruel 
archbishop  named  Hatto — a  miserly  priest — who, 
she  said,  was  "  readier  to  open  his  hand  to  bless, 
than  to  bestow  in  charity."  That  one  bad  har- 
vest he  purchased  all  the  corn,  in  order  to  sell  it 
again  at  a  high  price ;  money  was  the  sole  desire 
of  this  wicked  priest.  That  at  length  famine 
became  so  great  that  the  peasants  in  the  villages 
of  the  Rhine  were  dying  of  hunger — that  the 
people  assembled  in  the  town  of  Mayence,  weep- 
ing, and  demanding  bread — and  that  the  arch- 
bishop refused  to  give  them  any.  The  starving 
people  did  not  disperse,  but  surrounded  the  pal- 
ace, uttering  frightful  groans.  Hatto,  annoyed 
by  the  cries  of  starvation,  caused  his  archers 
to  seize  the  men  and  women,  old  and  young, 
and  to  shut  them  up  in  a  granary,  to  which 
he  set  fire.  "  It  was,"  added  the  old  woman, 
"  a  spectacle  that  might  have  caused  the  stones 
to  weep."  Hatto  did  nothing  but  laugh,  and  as 
the  wretched  sufferers  were  screaming  in  agony, 
and  were  expiring  in  the  flames,  he  exclaimed  : 


Hat  to  and  the  Rats.  185 

"  Do  you  hear  the  squeaking  of  the  rats?  " 
The  next  day  the  fatal  granary  was  in  ashes, 
and  there  were  no  longer  any  inhabitants  in 
Mayence.  The  town  seemed  dead  and  deserted ; 
when  suddenly  a  swarm  of  rats  sprang — like  the 
worms  in  the  ulcers  of  Assuerus — from  the  ashes 
of  the  granary,  coming  from  under  the  ground, 
appearing  in  every  crevice,  swarming  the  streets, 
the  citadel,  the  palace,  the  caves,  the  chambers, 
and  the  alcoves.  It  was  a  scourge,  an  affliction, 
a  hideous  fourmillement.  Hatto,  in  despair, 
quitted  Mayence,  and  fled  to  the  plains,  but 
the  rats  followed  him ;  he  shut  himself  up  in 
Bingen,  which  was  surrounded  by  walls,  but  the 
rats  gained  access  by  creeping  under  them. 
Then  the  despairing  bishop  caused  a  tower  to 
be  erected  in  the  middle  of  the  Rhine,  and  took 
refuge  in  it ;  the  rats  swam  over,  climbed  up  the 
tower,  gnawed  the  doors  and  windows,  the  walls 
and  ceilings,  and,  at  last,  reaching  the  palace, 
where  the  miserable  archbishop  was  hid,  de- 
voured him.  At  present  the  malediction  of 
Heaven  and  of  man  is  upon  this  tower,  which 
is  called  Mausethurm.  It  is  deserted — it  is 
crumbling  into  ruins  in  the  middle  of  the 
stream  ;  and  sometimes  at  night  a  strange  red 
vapor  is  seen  issuing  from  it  resembling  the 
smoke  of  a  furnace : — it  is  the  soul  of  Hatto, 
which  hovers  round  the  place. 


1 86  The  Rhine. 


There  is  one  thing  remarkable.  History,  oc- 
casionally, is  immoral ;  but  legends  are  always 
moral,  and  tend  to  virtue.  In  history  the 
powerful  prosper,  tyrants  reign,  the  wicked  con- 
duct themselves  with  propriety,  and  monsters 
do  well ;  a  Sylla  is  transformed  into  an  honor- 
able man ;  a  Louis  the  Eleventh  and  a  Cromwell 
die  in  their  beds.  In  tales,  Hell  is  always  visible. 
There  is  not  a  fault  that  has  not  its  punishment— 
not  a  crime,  which  leads  not  to  inquietude — 
no  wicked  men  but  those  who  become  wretched. 
Man,  who  is  the  inventor  of  fiction,  feels  that  he 
has  no  right  to  make  statements  and  leave  to 
vague  supposition  their  consequences ;  for  he  is 
grouping  in  darkness — is  sure  of  nothing ;  he  re- 
quires instruction  and  counsel,  and  dares  not 
relate  events  without  drawing  immediate  conclu- 
sions. God,  who  is  the  originator  of  history, 
shows  what  he  chooses,  and  knows  the  rest. 

Mausethurm  is  a  convenient  word,  for  we  may 
find  in  it  whatever  we  desire.  There  are  in- 
dividuals who  believe  themselves  capable  of 
judging  of  everything,  who  chase  poesy  from 
everything,  and  who  say,  as  the  man  did  to  the 
nightingale — "Stupid  beast!  won't  you  cease  to 
make  that  noise."  These  people  affirm  that  the 
word  Mausethurm  is  derived  from  maus  or 
mauth,  which  signifies  ^custom-house;  that  in 
the  tenth  century,  before  the  bed  of  the  river 


1  U^ 


The  Rat  7<w%.  &A  187 




was  enlarged,  the  Rhine  had  only  one  passage, 
and  that  the  authorities  of  Bingen  levied,  by 
means  of  this  tower,  a  duty  upon  all  vessels  that 
passed.  For  these  grave  thinkers — these  wise- 
acres— the  cursed  tower  was  a  douane,  and  Hatto 
was  a  custom-house  officer. 

According  to  the  old  women,  with  whom  I 
freely  associated,  Mausethurm  is  derived  from 
mans,  or  mus,  which  signifies  a  rat.  The  pre- 
tended custom-house  is  the  Rat  Tower,  and  its 
toll-keeper  a  spectre. 

After  all,  these  two  opinions  may  be  recon- 
ciled. It  is  not  altogether  improbable,  that 
towards  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  century, 
after  Luther,  after  Erasmus,  several  burgomssters 
of  nerve  made  use  of  the  tower  of  Hatto  for  a 
custom-house.  Why  not?  Rome  made  a  cus- 
tom-house of  the  temple  of  Antonius,  the 
dogana.  What  Rome  did  to  History,  Bingen 
might  well  do  to  Legend. 

In  that  case  Mauth  might  be  right,  and  Mause 
not  be  wrong. 

Let  that  be  as  it  may,  one  thing  is  certain — 
that  since  the  old  servant  told  me  the  story  of 
Hatto,  Mausethurm  has  always  been  one  of  the 
familiar  visions  of  my  mind.  You  are  aware 
that  there  are  no  men  without  their  phantoms, 
as  there  are  none  without  their  whims. 

Night  is  the   time   of  dreams ;  at  one  time  a 


1 88  The  Rhine. 


ray  of  light  appears,  then  a  flame  of  fire  ;  and, 
according  to  the  reflection,  the  same  dream  may 
be  a  celestial  glory,  or  an  apparition  of  hell. 

I  must  admit  that  the  Rat  Tower,  in  the 
middle  of  its  agitated  waters,  never  appeared  to 
me  but  with  a  horrible  aspect.  Also— shall  I 
avow  it  ? — when  chance,  by  whose  fantasy  I  was 
led,  brought  me  to  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  the 
first  thought  that  struck  me  was,  not  that  I 
should  see  the  dome  of  Mayence,  or  the  Cathe- 
dral of  Cologne,  or  the  Poalz,  but  that  I  should 
see  the  Rat  Tower. 

Judge  then  of  my  feelings,  poor  believing  poet 
and  infatuated  antiquary  that  I  am  !  Twilight 
slowly  succeeded  day  ;  the  hills  became  sombre, 
the  trees  dark,  and  a  few  stars  twinkled  in  the 
heavens.  I  walked  on,  my  eyes  fixed  on  ob- 
scurity ;  I  felt  that  I  was  approaching  Mause- 
thurm,  and  that  in  a  few  minutes  that  redoubt- 
able ruin,  which  to  me  had,  up  to  this  day,  been 
only  a  dream,  was  about  to  become  a  reality. 

I  came  to  a  turn  in  the  road,  and  suddenly 
stopped.  At  my  feet  was  the  Rhine,  running 
rapidly  and  murmuring  among  the  bushes  ;  to 
my  right  and  left,  mountains,  or  rather  huge 
dark  heaps,  whose  summits  were  lost  in  a  sky 
in  which  a  star  was  scarcely  to  be  seen  ;  at  the 
base,  for  the  horizon,  an  immense  curtain  of 
darkness;  in  the  middle  of  the  flood,  in  the  dis- 


Mausethurm.  189 


tance,  stood  a  large  black  tower,  of  a  strange 
form,  from  which  a  singular  red  light  issued,  re- 
sembling the  vapor  of  a  furnace,  casting  a  glare 
upon  the  surrounding  mountains,  showing  a 
mournful-looking  ruin  on  the  left  bank,  and  re- 
flecting itself  fantastically  on  the  waters.  There 
was  no  human  voice  to  be  heard ;  no,  not  even 
the  chirping  of  a  bird.  All  was  solitude — a  fear- 
ful, and  sad  silence,  troubled  only  by  the  monot- 
onous murmurings  of  the  Rhine. 

My  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Mausethurm.  I 
could  not  imagine  it  more  frightful  than  it  ap- 
peared. All  was  there — night,  clouds,  moun- 
tains; the  quivering  of  the  reeds;  the  noise  of 
the  flood,  full  of  secret  horror,  like  the  roaring  of 
hydras  under  water ;  the  sad  and  faint  blasts  of 
wind ;  the  shadows,  abandonment,  isolation ;  all, 
even  to  the  vapor  of  the  furnace  upon  the  tower 
—the  soul  of  Hatto  ! 

An  idea  crossed  my  mind,  perhaps  the  most 
simple,  but  which  at  that  moment  produced  a 
giddiness  in  my  head.  I  wished  at  that  hour, 
without  waiting  till  next  day,  or  till  daylight,  to 
go  to  the  ruin.  The  apparition  was  before  my 
eyes,  the  night  was  dark,  the  phantom  of  the 
archbishop  was  upon  the  tower.  It  was  the  time 
to  visit  Mausethurm. 

But  how  could  I  do  it  ?  where  could  I  find  a 
boat  in  such  a  place?  To  swim  across  the  Rhine 


190  The  Rhine. 


would  be  to  evince  too  great  a  taste  for  spectres. 
Moreover,  had  I  imagined  myself  a  good 
swimmer,  and  been  fool  enough  for  such  an 
act,  the  redoubtable  gulf  of  Bingerloch,  which 
formerly  swallowed  up  boats  as  sea-dogs  swallow 
herrings,  and  which  is  at  this  identical  spot, 
would  have  effectually  deterred  me.  I  was 
somewhat  embarrassed. 

Continuing  my  way  towards  the  ruin,  I  re- 
member that  the  tinkling  of  the  silver  bell  and 
the  spectres  of  the  dungeon  of  Velmich  did  not 
prevent  the  peasants  from  propping  the  vine 
and  exploring  the  ruins ;  I  concluded  that  near 
a  gulf,  where  fish  necessarily  abound,  I  should 
probably  meet  with  the  cabin  of  some  fisherman. 
When  vine-dressers  brave  Falkenstein  and  his 
Mouse,  fishermen  might  well  dare  Hatto  and 
his  Rats. 

I  was  not  deceived.  I  continued,  however, 
walking  for  some  time  before  I  met  anything ; 
but  at  length  reached  a  point  of  the  bank  where 
the  Nahue  joins  the  Rhine.  I  began  to  give 
up  all  hopes  of  meeting  a  waterman,  but  on 
descending  towards  some  osiers,  I  descried  a 
boat  of  a  strange  construction,  in  which  a  man, 
enveloped  in  a  covering,  was  sleeping.  I  went 
into  the  boat,  awoke  the  man,  and  pointed  to 
the  tower;  but  he  did  not  understand  me.  I 
then  showed  him  one  of  the  large  Saxony 


Mausethurm.  191 


crowns,  which  are  of  the  value  of  six  francs 
each:  he  understood  me  immediately;  and  a 
few  minutes  afterwards,  without  exchanging  a 
word,  we,  spectre-like,  were  gliding  towards 
Mausethurm. 

When  in  the  middle  of  the  flood,  it  seemed  to 
me  as  if  the  tower  diminished  in  size,  instead  of 
increasing. 

It  was  the  Rhine  which  made  it  appear  less. 
As  I  had  taken  the  boat  at  a  place  which  was 
higher  up  than  Mausethurm,  we  descended  the 
river,  advancing  rapidly.  My  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  the  tower,  from  the  summit  of  which  the 
vague  light  was  still  issuing,  and  which,  at  each 
stroke  of  the  oar,  I  saw  distinctly  increasing. 
Suddenly  I  felt  the  bark  sinking  under  me,  as 
if  we  were  in  a  whirlpool,  and  the  jerk  caused 
my  stick  to  roll  at  my  feet.  I  looked  at  my 
companion,  who,  returning  my  gaze  with  a 
sinister  smile,  which,  seen  by  the  supernatural 
light  of  Mausethurm,  had  something  frightful 
in  it,  said  "  Bingerloch."  We  were  upon  the 
gulf.  The  boat  turned.  The  man  rose,  seized 
the  anchor  with  one  hand  and  a  cord  with  the 
other,  plunged  the  former  into  the  surge,  leaped 
on  the  gunwale,  and  began  to  walk  upon  it. 
This  manoeuvre  was  accomplished  with  admir- 
able dexterity  and  marvelous  sang-froid. 

We  landed.     I  raised  my  eyes.     A  short  dis- 


192  The  Rhine. 


tance  from  where  I  stood,  on  a  little  island  not 
observable  from  the  land,  was  Mausethurm,  an 
enormous  formidable  castle,  dilapidated  and  in 
fragments,  as  if  gnawed  by  the  frightful  rats  of 
the  legend. 

The  faint  light  that  I  observed  was  a  red 
flame  which  shed  rays  along  the  mountains, 
giving  to  every  crevice  the  appearance  of  the 
mouth  of  an  enormous  lantern.  It  also  seemed 
to  me  as  if  I  heard  in  that  fatal  edifice,  a  strange 
continued  noise — a  sort  of  gnawing  sound. 

I  looked  at  the  waterman,  told  him  to  wait  my 
return,  and  walked  towards  the  ruin. 

It  was  truly  the  tower  of  Hatto — the  place  of 
rats.  Mausethurm  was  before  my  eyes,  and  I 
was  about  to  enter.  In  directing  my  steps  to- 
wards a  low  door  in  the  facade,  through  which 
the  wind  from  the  river  was  whistling,  I  was 
startled  by  some  black  living  creature,  which  ran 
rapidly  by  my  feet.  It  appeared  to  me  to  be 
a  huge  rat  running  towards  the  reeds.  On 
reaching  the  door,  I  ventured  to  look  into  the 
room,  from  which  the  strange  gnawing  sound 
and  the  extraordinary  glare  of  light  still  came. 
I  will  tell  you  what  I  saw : 

In  an  angle  opposite  the  door  were  two  men 
with  their  backs  turned  to  me.  One  was  in  a 
stooping  posture,  and  the  other  seated  upon  a 
kind  of  iron  vise,  which  a  person  of  discernment 


Mausethurm.  193 


might  have  taken  for  an  instrument  of  torture. 
Their  feet  and  arms  were  naked,  their  clothes 
tattered,  and  each  wore  a  leathern  apron.  One 
was  old — his  grey  hair  testified  it ;  the  other  was 
young — I  saw  his  fair  locks,  which,  from  the  re- 
flection of  a  large,  lighted  furnace  in  the  oppo- 
site angle,  appeared  red.  The  old  man  wore, 
like  the  Guelphs,  his  cowl  inclined  to  the  right  ; 
and  the  young  one,  like  the  Gibelins,  had  his 
upon  the  left  side.  But  they  were  neither  Gib- 
elins nor  Guelphs,  demons  nor  spectres.  Two 
blacksmiths  were  before  me.  The  light — the  soul 
of  Hatto,  changed  by  Hell  into  a  living  flame — 
was  the  fire  and  smoke  of  the  chimney!  the 
gnawing  sound,  the  sound  of  files ! 

The  two  blacksmiths  were  worthy  individuals. 
They  showed  me  the  ruins ;  pointed  out  the 
place  in  which  Hatto  had  taken  shelter ;  and 
then  lent  me  a  lantern,  with  which  I  ranged 
through  the  whole  of  the  little  island. 

After  having  examined  the  ruin,  I  left  Mause- 
thurm. My  waterman  was  fast  asleep,  but  was 
no  sooner  roused  than  we  proceeded  forthwith  to 
cross  the  Rhine,  when  I  again  heard  the  noise  of 
the  two  blacksmiths. 

Half  an  hour  aftewards  I  arrived  at  Bingen ; 
was  very  hungry  ;  supped  :  after  which,  although 
fatigued,  although  the  inhabitants  were  asleep  in 
their  beds,  I  explored  the  Klopp,  an  old  castle  in 


194  The  Rhine. 


ruins  which  overlooks  Bingen,  where  I  witnessed 
a  spectacle  worthy  of  closing  a  day  on  which  I 
saw  so  many  things,  with  so  many  ideas  crossing 
my  mind. 


Legend  of  Pecopin.  195 


CHAPTER     XXI. 

LEGEND   OF   THE   HANDSOME    PECOPIN  AND  THE 
BEAUTIFUL  BAULDOUR. 

The  Planet  Venus  and  the  Bird  Phoenix.— The  Difference  be- 
tween the  Ear  of  a  Young  Man  and  that  of  an  Old  one. 
— The  Qualities  Essential  to  Different  Embassies. — Happy 
Effect  of  a  Good  Thought.— The  Devil  is  Wrong  in  being 
a  Gourmand. — Amiable  Proposition  of  an  Old  Sage. — The 
Wandering  Christian. — The  Danger  to  which  we  Expose 
Ourselves  by  Getting  on  a  Strange  Horse. — The  Return. — 
Bauldour. 

I  PROMISED  to  relate  one  of  the  legends 
of  Falkenburg,  perhaps  the  most  interest- 
ing— that  of  the  grave  adventure  of  Guntram 
and  Liba ;  but,  after  reflection,  I  think  it  would 
be  useless  to  do  so,  as  you  will  find  it  in  almost 
any  collection,  written  in  a  spirit  far  more  en- 
livening than  I  could  tell  it.  However,  I  will 
record  one,  which  will  be  found  nowhere  else. 
You  may  thank  the  old  French  soldier  for  it. 
This  follower  of  the  republican  army  believes,  at 
present,  in  gnomes  and  fairies,  as  devotedly  as  he 
formerly  credited  the  puissance  of  the  emperor. 
Solitude  has  always  this  effect  upon  the  mind ;  it 
develops  the  poetry  which  is  inherent  in  man, 


196  The  Rhine. 


and  makes  him  a  believer  in  the  wonderful  and 
supernatural. 

LEGEND    OF  THE    HANDSOME    PECOPIN   AND   THE 
BEAUTIFUL  BAULDOUR. 

The  handsome  Pecopin  loved  the  beautiful 
Bauldour,  and  the  lovely  Bauldour  was  enamored 
of  the  gay  Pecopin.  He  possessed  all  the  quali- 
ties of  a  lord  and  of  a  man ;  and  she  was  a  queen 
when  at  home,  a  holy  virgin  at  church,  a  nymph 
in  the  woods,  and  a  fairy  at  work. 

Pecopin  was  an  excellent  hunter,  and  Bauldour 
was  a  good  spinster.  When  he  was  absent,  the 
distaff  amused  and  consoled  her;  and  when  the 
sound  of  the  horn,  mingling  with  the  noise  of 
the  hounds,  would  strike  her  ear,  she  fancied  she 
could  distinguish  the  words — "  Think  of  thy 
lover."  Besides,  the  wheel,  which  caused  the 
belle  reveuse  to  stoop,  was  ever  saying  in  a  soft 
and  small  voice — "  Think  of  him." 

When  the  husband  and  lover  are  united  in  one 
person,  all  goes  well.  Marry,  then,  the  spinster 
to  the  hunter,  and  fear  nothing. 

However,  I  must  say  that  Pecopin  was  too 
fond  of  hunting.  When  he  was  on  horseback, 
the  falcon  resting  on  his  hand,  or  when  he  was 
following  the  stag,  he  forgot  everything.  Who- 
ever loves  horses  and  dogs  too  much,  displeases 


Legend  of  Pecopin.  197 

woman ;  and  he  who  loves  woman  too  much  dis- 
pleases God.  Govern,  therefore,  your  tastes,  and 
bridle  your  inclinations. 

When  Bauldour,  that  noble  and  lovely  young 
girl,  that  star  of  love,  of  youth  and  of  beauty, 
saw  Pecopin  caressing  his  dog,  a  huge  animal, 
with  large  nostrils,  long  ears,  and  a  black  mouth, 
she  was  jealous  of  it.  She  entered  her  room  dis- 
concerted and  sad,  and  there  wept.  Then  she 
scolded  her  servants,  and  after  them  her  dwarf. 
Woman's  anger  is  like  rain  in  a  forest— it  falls 
twice.  Bis  pluit. 

In  the  evening  Pecopin,  blackened  with  pow- 
der and  weary  with  fatigue,  returned  to  Baul- 
dour, who  pouted  and  murmured,  with  a  tear  in 
the  corner  of  her  large,  black  eye.  Pecopin 
pressed  her  little  hand,  and  she  ceased  murmur- 
ing;  then  he  kissed  her  rosy  lips,  and  she  smiled. 
She  never  suffered  the  chevalier  to  take  her  by 
the  waist.  One  evening  he  slightly  pressed  her 
elbow,  and  her  face  colored  up  with  blushes  and 
offended  pride.  She  was  betrothed  and  not  mar- 
ried. Modesty  in  woman  is  what  bravery  is  in 
man. 

PART  II. 

THE  BIRD  PHOENIX  AND  VENUS.— Pecopin 
had  in  his  hall  at  Sonneck  a  large  gilt  painting, 
which  represented  the  nine  heavens,  each  with 


198  The  Rhine. 


its  appropriate  color  and  name  affixed  to  it  :— 
Saturn,  leaden  color;  Jupiter,  clear  and  brilliant; 
Venus,  the  east  on  fire ;  Mercury,  sparkling ;  the 
Moon,  with  its  silvery  appearance ;  the  Sun, 
shining  flames.  Pecopin  erased  the  word  Venus, 
and  substituted  Bauldour. 

The  fair  demoiselle  had  in  her  room  large 
tapestries,  on  which  was  an  immense  bird,  the 
size  of  an  eagle,  with  a  golden  neck  and  a  blue 
tail.  Above  this  marvelous  animal  was  written 
the  Greek  word  "  Phcenix."  Bauldour  effaced  it, 
and  substituted  "  Pecopin." 

The  day  fixed  for  the  nuptials  drew  near. 
Pecopin  was  full  of  joy,  and  Bauldour  was 
happy. 

A  week  before  the  appointed  day  of  marriage, 
Bauldour  was  busily  spinning  at  her  window. 
Her  dwarf  came  to  tell  her  that  Pecopin  was 
coming  up  stairs,  at  which  intelligence  she  rose 
hurriedly  to  run  to  her  betrothed,  but  her  foot 
got  entangled  with  the  thread,  and  she  fell.  Poor 
Baldour  rose ;  she  was  not  hurt,  but  remembering 
that  a  similar  accident  happened  at  the  castle  to 
Liba,  she  felt  sad  at  heart.  Pecopin  entered 
beaming  with  joy,  spoke  of  their  marriage  and 
of  their  happiness,  and  the  cloud  that  hovered 
round  her  soul  vanished. 


Legend  of  Pecopin.  199 


PART  III. 

THE  DIFFERENCE  BETWEEN  THE  EAR  OF  A 
YOUNG  MAN  AND  THAT  OF  AN  OLD  ONE.— 
Next  day  Bauldour  was  spinning  in  her  chamber, 
and  Pecopin  was  hunting  In  the  woods.  He  had 
no  companion  but  his  dog.  In  following  the 
chase,  he  came  to  the  forest  of  Sonn,  where 
there  are  four  large  trees,  an  ash,  an  elm,  a  fir, 
and  an  oak — which  are  called  by  the  people 
"  The  Evangelists"  As  Pecopin  passed  under 
the  shade,  four  birds  were  perched  upon  the 
trees — a  daw  upon  the  ash,  a  blackbird  upon  the 
elm,  a  magpie  upon  the  fir,  and  a  crow  upon  the 
oak.  These  feathered  creatures  made  a  strange, 
confused  noise,  and  seemed  as  if  they  were 
interrogating  each  other.  A  few  steps  further 
on,  an  old  man  was  seated  on  the  stump  of  a 
tree ;  and  as  Pecopin  passed  he  turned  round  and 
said  : 

"  Sir  chevalier,  do  you  know  what  the  birds  are 
saying?" 

"  My  good  fellow,  Pecopin  replied,  "what  does 
it  matter  to  me?" 

"Sir,"  said  the  peasant,  "for  the  young  the 
blackbird  whistles,  the  magpie  chatters,  and  the 
raven  croaks ;  for  the  old,  the  birds  speak." 

The  chevalier  burst  out  into  a  fit  of  laughter, 
saying,  "  Pardieu  !  you're  raving." 


200  The  Rhine. 


"You  are  wrong,  Sir  Pecopin,"  said  the  old 
man,  gravely. 

"  You  never  saw  me  before ;  how  is  It  that  you 
know  my  name  ?  " 

"  From  the  birds,"  replied  the  peasant. 

"  You  are  an  old  fool,  my  worthy  fellow,"  said 
Pecopin,  continuing  his  route. 

About  an  hour  afterwards  Pecopin  heard  the 
sound  of  a  horn,  and  then  perceived  the  Count 
Palatine  and  his  suite,  who  were  out  on  a  hunt- 
ing excursion. 

"Holla!"  one  of  them  cried  out,  on  seeing 
Pecopin,  "  my  brave  hunter — won't  you  accom- 
pany us?"  He  consented,  and  conducted  him- 
self so  marvelously,  by  killing  the  different 
animals  they  pursued,  that  the  count  gave  him 
a  fief  of  Rhineck,  enrolled  him  amongst  his  fol- 
lowers, and  prevailed  upon  him  to  go  to  Stah- 
leck,  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance.  Pecopin 
sent  a  message  to  Bauldour,  announcing  the  in- 
tention of  the  pfalzgraf.  "  Be  not  uneasy,  my 
beloved,"  he  added ;  "  I  will  be  with  you  next 
month."  The  messenger  set  out,  and  Pecopin 
retired  with  the  prince  and  his  followers  to  the 
castle  at  Bacharach. 

PART  rv. 
QUALITIES    ESSENTIAL   TO   DIFFERENT   EM- 


Legend  of  Pecopin.  26 1 

BASSIES. — Pecopin  was  a  nobleman  by  blood, 
by  nature,  and  by  outward  appearance,  and 
pleased  the  pfalzgraf  so  much,  that  this  prince 
one  day  said  to  him :  "  My  friend,  I  have  an  em- 
bassy for  my  cousin  of  Bourgogne,  and  your 
noble  appearance  and  gallant  behavior  have  in- 
duced me  to  make  you  my  ambassador." 

Pecopin  obeyed  the  wishes  of  his  prince,  and 
went  to  Dijon,  where  the  Duke  received  him 
kindly;  and  he  was  soon  after,  on  account  of 
his  rank,  sent  on  an  embassy  to  the  King  of 
France.  One  day  the  king  said :  "  Pecopin,  I 
require  a  gentleman  to  go  to  Spain  on  urgent 
business;  but,  finding  none  of  my  followers  ca- 
pable of  undertaking  such  a  task,  I  have  fixed 
upon  you,  on  account  of  your  mien  and  mind." 
Pecopin  again  set  out ;  and  when  the  negotiation 
was  terminated  he  went  to  the  sultan  to  take  his 
leave. 

"  I  receive  your  adieus  with  pleasure,  for  you 
must  set  out  immediately  for  Bagdad." 

"  For  Bagdad ! "  Pecopin  replied,  with  as- 
tonishment. 

"Yes,  chevalier,"  replied  the  Moorish  prince, 
"  for  I  cannot  sign  the  treaty  with  the  King 
of  France  without  the  consent  of  the  Caliph  of 
Bagdad." 

Pecopin  went  to  Bagdad,  where  a  strange  ad- 
venture happened  to  him.  One  day,  while  pass- 


202  The  Rhine. 


ing  the  walls  of  the  seraglio,  the  sultan's  favorite 
perceived  him  ;  and  as  he  was  handsome,  bold, 
and  of  a  haughty  air,  she  conceived  a  passion 
for  him  and  sent  a  black  slave  to  speak  to 
him — 

"  This  talisman,"  she  said,  "  is  the  gift  of  a 
princess  who  loves  you,  but  who  will  never  see 
you  more.  Take  care  of  it,  for  as  long  as  you 
wear  it  you  will  never  be  old ;  when  you  are  in 
dangers  touch  it  and  you  will  be  saved." 
Pecopin  accepted  the  talisman,  and  attached  it 
to  his  neck-chain.  "  Now,"  the  slave  added, 
"  do  not  lose  it,  for  whilst  you  have  it  in  your 
possession,  you  will  always  have  the  same  youth- 
ful appearance;  but  when  you  lose  it,  the  in- 
firmities of  every  year  which  has  passed  over 
your  head  will  instantly  attack  you.  Adieu, 
handsome  giaour."  Having  said  this  the  negress 
left  him. 

The  caliph  had  observed  his  favorite's  slave 
speaking  with  Pecopin,  and  was  fired  with 
jealousy.  He  invited  the  stranger  to  a  feast, 
and  at  night  conducted  him  to  the  summit  of 
a  high  tower.  Pecopin,  without  suspicion,  ad- 
vanced near  the  parapet,  which  was  very  low, 
when  the  caliph  addressed  him  in  these  words : — 

"Chevalier — the  Count  Palatine  sent  you  to 
the  Duke  of  Bourgogne  on  account  of  your 
renown;  the  Duke  of  Bourgogne  sent  you  to 


Legend  of  Pecopin. 


the  King  of  France  because  you  were  of  a  noble 
race  ;  the  King  of  France  sent  you  to  the 
Sovereign  of  Grenada  on  account  of  your  wit  ; 
and  he  sent  you  to  the  Caliph  of  Bagdad  because 
you  were  dignified  in  appearance.  As  for  me,  on 
account  of  thy  fame,  thy  rank,  thy  wit,  and  thy 
fine  appearance,  I  send  thee  to  the  Devil," 

On  pronouncing  the  last  word,  the  caliph 
pushed  Pecopin  over  the  parapet. 

PART  V. 

GOOD  EFFECTS  OF  A  GOOD  THOUGHT.  — 
When  a  man  falls  from  a  height,  terrible  ideas 
flash  across  his  brain  —  life,  which  he  is  going  to 
leave  ;  and  the  regions  of  death,  which  he  is 
about  to  enter.  In  that  awful  moment  Pecopin 
thought  of  Bauldour  —  put  his  hand  to  his  heart, 
and,  without  knowing,  touched  the  talisman. 
No  sooner  had  his  finger  come  in  contact  with 
the  magic  stone,  than  he  felt  as  if  he  were 
supported  with  wings.  He  no  longer  fell  —  he 
flew,  and  continued  to  do  so  all  night.  Just  as 
day  was  breaking,  the  invisible  hand  that  sup- 
ported him  placed  him  gently  upon  the  sea- 
shore. 

ART  VI. 

THE  DEVIL  is  WRONG  IN  BEING  A  GOUR- 
MAND. —  At  this  time  a  singular  and  disagreeable 


204  The  Rhine. 


adventure  happened  to  the  Devil.  It  was  cus- 
tomary for  Asmodeus  to  go  about  picking  up  all 
the  souls  that  belonged  to  him,  putting  them 
into  a  bag  and  carrying  them  away  upon  his 
back.  One  day,  being  more  fortunate  than  usual, 
he  was  filling  his  sack  gayly,  when,  turning  round, 
he  beheld  an  Angel,  who  was  smiling  at  him. 
The  Devil  shook  up  the  bag,  and  continued 
filling  for  some  time.  At  last  he  stopped,  and 
seized  hold  of  it  to  swing  over  his  shoulder;  but 
the  souls  that  he  had  crammed  into  it  were  so 
numerous,  and  the  iniquities  with  which  they 
were  burdened  weighed  so  heavily,  that  he  could 
not  move  it.  He  took  both  his  hands,  and  made 
a  second  attempt,  which  proved  as  futile  as  the 
first.  "O  souls  of  lead!"  the  Devil  exclaimed, 
and  then  he  began  swearing.  Again  he  looked 
up,  and  he  saw  the  Angel  laughing  at  him. 

"  What  are  you  doing  there  ? "  cried  the 
Demon. 

"  You  see  well  enough  ;  I  was  smiling  a  short 
time  ago;  now  I  am  laughing." 

"  O,  celestial  fowl !  huge  innocent !  begone  !  " 
Asmodeus  cried. 

The  Angel  looked  at  him  gravely,  and  said : — 

"  Hear  me,  Dragon ;  thou  wilt  not  be  able  to 
carry  away  that  load  of  souls  till  a  saint  from 
Paradise  or  a  Christian  from  Heaven  falls  upon 
the  earth  and  helps  thee  to  put  it  on  thy 


Legend  of  Pccopln. 


shoulders."  That  said,  the  Angel  opened  his 
wings  and  flew  away. 

The  Devil  was  very  much  disconcerted. 
"  What  does  that  imbecile  mean  ?  "  he  muttered 
between  his  teeth.  "  A  saint  from  Paradise,  or 
a  Christian  from  Heaven  !  I  shall  be  forced  to 
remain  a  long  time  if  I  wait  the  coming  of  such 
assistance.  How,  in  the  name  of  all  the  saints, 
did  I  so  cram  my  sack." 

As  the  Devil  stood  by  the  side  of  his  heavy 
burden,  heaping  imprecations  upon  himself  for 
his  own  stupidity,  he  cast  his  eyes  upwards,  and 
perceived  a  black  speck  in  the  heavens,  which 
every  moment  became  larger  and  larger.  The 
Devil  put  his  hands  on  his  knees  to  take  a  better 
view  of  it,  and  discovered  that  it  was  a  man  — 
an  armed  Christian,  bearing  a  cross  upon  his 
breast,  falling  from  the  clouds. 

"  What  is  it  to  me  who  sends  him  ?  "  ex- 
claimed the  Devil,  jumping  with  joy  ;  "  I  am 
saved  !  I  could  not  get  over  four  saints  a  short 
time  ago,  who  laughed  at  the  pitiful  tale  that  I 
told  them  ;  but  it  will  be  easy  for  me  to  manage 
this  fellow." 

Pecopin,  on  finding  himself  on  terra  firma, 
looked  round,  and  on  perceiving  the  old  man, 
who  was  like  a  slave  resting  by  the  side  of  his 
load,  he  accosted  him  thus:  "Who  are  you, 
friend  ?  and,  pray,  where  am  I  ?  " 


206  The  Rhine. 


The  Devil  whined  out  piteously — 

"You,  Sir,  are  on  the  borders  of  the  Red  Sea, 
and  I  am  the  most  wretched  of  all  miserable 
beings.  I  have  a  very  cruel  master,  who  has 
taken  it  into  his  head  to  build  a  mountain,  and 
he  obliges  me,  an  old  man,  to  carry  loads  of  sand 
from  the  borders  of  the  sea.  I  begin  at  the 
break  of  day,  and  never  leave  off  before  sunset. 
Yesterday  I  was  returning  with  my  sixth  load, 
when  fatigue  overcame  me.  I  thought  I  would 
rest  myself,  and  afterwards  found  that  I  had  not 
strength  to  lift  the  load  on  my  shoulders,  and 
therefore  was  obliged  to  remain  here  all  night, 
looking  at  my  burden,  and  cursing  my  master  for 
his  cruelty.  My  good  Sir,  for  pity's  sake  help 
me  up  with  this  load,  that  I  may  return  to  my 
master.  I  am  sure  he  will  kill  me." 

Pecopin  shook  his  head,  saying,  "  Good  man, 
your  story  is  an  unlikely  one." 

"  My  dear  Sir,"  the  Devil  replied,  "  what  has 
happened  to  you  if  told,  would  be  as  unlikely ; 
yet  it  is  true.  Then,"  he  continued,  "what 
harm  would  it  do  to  you  to  help  an  infirm  old 
man  to  place  his  load  upon  his  back?  " 

This  was  a  just  demand.  Pecopin  stooped, 
seized  the  bag,  and  was  placing  it  on  the  back 
of  the  old  man,  who  was  leaning  forward  to  re- 
ceive the  load.  The  Devil  is  vicious — it  was  for 
vice  that  he  fell ;  he  was  greedy,  which  passion 


Legend  of  Pecopin.  20? 

often  causes  the  loss  of  all.  The  idea  struck 
him  of  adding  the  soul  of  Pecopin  to  the  others ; 
but  first  of  all  he  must  kill  Pecopin. 

The  Devil  began  to  speak  to  some  invisible 
spirit,  in  a  kind  of  jargon,  half  Italian,  half 
Spanish,  which  Pecopin  fortunately  understood : 

"  Bamus,  non  tier  a  occki,  verbera,  frappa,  y 
echa  la  pie dr a" 

Suspicion  flashed  like  lightning  across  the 
the  mind  of  Pecopin ;  he  raised  his  eyes,  and 
saw  above  his  head  an  enormous  stone  that  some 
invisible  hand  held  suspended  in  the  air. 

He  stepped  backwards,  touched  his  talisman 
with  his  left  hand,  seized  his  poniard  with  his 
right,  and  plunged  it  violently  into  the  bag. 
The  Devil  cried  hideously,  and  the  souls,  profit- 
ing by  the  hole  which  Pecopin  had  made,  flew 
away,  leaving  behind  them  their  dark  deeds  and 
crimes,  which,  by  their  natural  attraction  to  the 
demon,  fixed  upon  his  back ;  thus  it  is  that  the 
Devil  is  always  represented  with  a  hump. 

At  the  moment  that  Pecopin  stepped  back- 
wards, the  invisible  giant  dropped  the  stone, 
which  fell  upon  the  foot  of  the  Devil,  and 
crushed  it;  and  from  that  day  Asmodeus  has 
always  been  club-footed. 

The  Devil,  like  Jove,  has  thunder  at  his  com- 
mand, but  it  is  of  a  more  frightful  nature,  com- 
ing from  the  earth  and  uprooting  trees.  Pecopin 


208  The  Rhine. 


felt  the  ground  tremble  beneath  him ;  a  dense 
cloud  rose  around,  and  a  noise  met  his  ear:  it 
appeared  to  him  that  he  fell,  and  rolled  along 
the  earth  like  a  withered  leaf  when  blown  by  the 
wind.  He  fainted. 

PART  VII. 

AMIABLE  PROPOSITIONS  OF  AN  OLD  SAGE. — 
When  Pecopin  recovered,  he  heard  a  soft  voice 
saying,  "Phi  sma"  which  is  Arabian,  and  signi- 
fies "  He  is  in  Heaven."  Another  person  placed 
his  hand  upon  his  chest,  and  replied,  "  Lo,  lo, 
machi  mouth"  which  means  "  No,  no,  he  is  not 
dead."  Pecopin  opened  his  eyes,  and  saw  an  old 
man  and  a  young  girl  kneeling  by  his  side:  the 
countenance  of  the  former  was  as  dark  as  night ; 
he  had  a  long,  white  beard,  and  was  enveloped 
in  a  scarf  of  green  silk ;  the  young  girl  was  of  a 
copper  color,  had  large,  hazel  eyes,  lips  of  coral, 
and  gold  rings  hanging  from  her  nose  and  ears. 
She  was  exceedingly  handsome. 

Pecopin  was  no  longer  by  the  seaside.  The 
blast  of  Hell  had  borne  him  into  a  valley  filled 
with  rocks  and  trees  of  a  strange  form.  He  rose. 
The  old  man  and  the  handsome  female  looked  at 
him  affectionately.  He  approached  one  of  the 
trees ;  the  leaves  contracted,  the  branches  re- 
ceded, and  the  flowers,  which  were  pale  white, 


Legend  of  Pecopin.  209 


became  red.  Pecopin  recognized  the  mimosa,  or 
"  tree  of  shame,"  and  concluded  that  he  had  left 
India,  and  was  now  in  the  famed  country  of 
Pudiferan. 

The  old  man  beckoned  to  Pecopin  to  follow, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  all  three  were  seated  npon 
a  mat  in  a  cabin  built  of  palm-leaves,  the  interior 
of  which  was  filled  with  precious  stones,  that 
shone  like  a  heated  furnace.  The  old  man  looked 
at  Pecopin,  and  said  in  German — 

"  My  son,  I  am  the  man  who  knows  every- 
thing— the  great  Ethiopian  lapidary,  the  taleb  of 
the  Arabs.  I  am  the  first  that  ever  penetrated 
this  desert ;  thou  art  the  second.  I  have  passed 
my  life  in  gleaning  from  nature  the  science  of 
things,  and  filling  them  with  the  science  of  the 
soul.  Thanks  to  me  and  to  my  lessons ;  thanks 
to  the  rays  which,  in  this  valley  of  animate  stone, 
of  thinking  plants,  and  of  wise  animals,  have 
fallen  for  a  hundred  years  from  my  eyeballs !  It 
was  I  who  pointed  out  to  beasts  their  true  medi- 
cine, of  which  man  stands  so  much  in  need.  Till 
now  I  have  only  had  beasts  for  disciples,  but  have 
long  wished  for  a  man.  Thou  art  come  ;  then  be 
my  son.  I  am  old.  I  will  leave  thee  my  cabin, 
my  precious  stones,  my  valley,  and  my  science. 
Thou  shalt  marry  my  daughter,  who  is  called 
Aissab,  and  who  is  good  and  beautiful.  We 
shall  pass  our  days  happily  in  picking  up 


210  The  Rhine. 


diamonds  and  eating  the  roots  of  plants.  Be 
my  son." 

"Thanks,  my  venerable  seignor,"  Pecopin  said; 
"  I  accept  with  joy  your  kind  offer." 

When  night  came  he  made  his  escape. 

PART  VIII. 

THE  WANDERING  CHRISTIAN.— To  tell  all  the 
adventures  of  Pecopin  would  be  to  relate  the 
voyage  of  the  world.  At  one  time  he  was  walk- 
ing with  naked  feet  on  the  sea-shore;  at  another, 
in  sandals,  climbing  a  mountain ;  now  riding  upon 
an  ass, — afterwards  seated  on  a  zebra  or  an  ele- 
phant. He  lost  in  the  desert,  like  Jerome  Cos- 
tilla,  four  of  his  toes ;  and,  like  Mendez  Pinto, 
was  sold  twenty  times.  He  clambered  up  moun- 
tains whose  summits  were  hidden  in  the  clouds, 
and,  on  approaching  their  tops,  vomited  blood 
and  phlegm.  He  came  to  that  island  which  no 
one  when  seeking  can  find,  and  to  which  chance 
only  can  bring  one.  In  Scythia  he  killed  a  grif- 
fin which  the  people  had  long  been  endeavoring 
to  destroy,  in  order  to  possess  the  gold  guarded 
by  that  animal ;  for  which  act  they  wished  to 
make  him  their  king,  but  he  declined  their  offer. 
Amidst  all  his  adventures,  all  his  daring  deeds, 
his  miseries,  and  troubles,  the  brave  and  faithful 
Pecopin  had  only  one  end  in  view — to  find  Ger- 


Legend  of  Pecopin.  211 

many — to  enter  Falkenburg,  with  the  hope  of 
seeing  Bauldour. 

He  counted  with  a  sad  heart  the  days  as  they 
passed,  and,  on  reaching  the  north  of  France, 
found  that  five  years  had  elapsed  since  he  had 
seen  Bauldour.  He  sat  down  upon  a  stone  by 
the  roadside  ;  his  thoughts  wandered  to  his 
beloved ;  something  fell  upon  his  hand ;  he 
started — it  was  a  tear  that  had  dropped  from 
his  cheek. 

"  Five  years,"  he  thought,  "  is  a  long  time  ; 
but  I  will  see  her  now."  Then,  though  his  feet 
were  lacerated  with  the  stones,  and  his  clothes 
torn,  he  proceeded  with  a  light  heart  on  his 
journey. 

After  traveling  all  day  among  rocks,  trying  to 
discover  a  passage  which  descended  to  the 
Rhine,  he  arrived  at  a  wood,  which,  without 
hesitation,  he  entered ;  and  after  walking  for 
upwards  of  an  hour,  found  himself  near  a  ditch. 
Tired,  and  dying  of  hunger  and  thirst,  he  sank 
down  upon  the  grass,  lifted  his  eyes  upwards, 
and  perceived  a  flock  of  sheldrakes  soaring  above 
him. 

In  agony  of  soul,  he  was  asking  himself 
where  he  was,  when  the  sound  of  some  one  sing- 
ing in  the  distance  floated  on  the  evening  breeze. 
Pecopin  raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  listened 
attentively,  and  distinguished  these  words : 


212  The  Rhine. 


Mon  petit  lac  engendre,  en  1'ombre  qui  1'abrite, 
La  riante  Amphitrite  et  le  noir  Neptunus  ; 
Mon  humble  6tang  nourrit,  sur  des  monts  inconnus, 
L'empereur  Neptunus  et  la  reine  Amphitrite, 

Je  suis  le  nain,  grand-pere  des  grants. 

Ma  goutte  d'eau  produit  deux  oceans. 

Je  verse  de  mes  rocs,  que  n'effleure  aucun  aile, 
Un  flueve  bieu  pour  elle,  un  fleuve  vert  pour  lui, 
J'epanche  de  ma  grotte,  ou  jamais  feu  n'a  lui, 
Le  fleuve  vert  pour  lui,  Ir  fleuve  bleu  pour  elle. 

Je  suis  le  nain,  grand-pere  des  geants. 

Ma  goutte  d'eau  produit  deux  oceans. 

Unc  fine  emeraude  est  dans  mon  sable  jaune. 
Un  pur  saphir  se  cache  en  mon  humide  6crin. 
Mon  emeraude  fond  et  devient  le  beau  Rhin  ; 
Mon  saphir  se  dissout,  ruisselle  et  fait  le  Rhone. 

Je  suis  le  nain,  grand-pere  des  grants. 

Ma  goutte  d'eau  produit  deux  oceans. 

Pecopin  could  no  longer  doubt  the  sad  con- 
viction that  crossed  his  mind.  Poor,  hungry, 
and  fatigued  traveler !  he  was  in  the  fatal  Wood 
of  the  Lost  Path,  which  is  full  of  labyrinths,  and 
where  the  dwarf  Roulon  is  ever  seen  deceiving 
the  traveler,  who,  if  once  within  the  wood  is 
never  known  to  leave  it. 

The  voice  was  that  of  Roulon ;  the  song  was 
that  of  the  wicked  dwarf  of  the  Bois  des  Pas 
Perdus. 

Pecopin,  in  despair,  threw  himself  on  the 
ground,  crying — "  Alas!  all  is  over.  I  shall  never 
more  behold  Bauldour." 

"  You  are  wrong,  if  you  serve  me,"  said  some 
one  from  behind. 


Legend  of  Pecopin.  213 

Pecopin  looked  up,  and  beheld  an  old  gentle- 
man equipped  for  the  chase.  It  was  not  the 
dwarf  Roulon,  which  circumstance  made  his 
heart  leap  with  joy. 

"What  do  you  want  with  me?"  Pecopin  de- 
manded. 

"  To  take  thee  to  Bauldour,"  replied  the  old 
man,  smiling. 

"When?" 

"  After  you  have  spent  a  night  in  the  chase." 

"  But  I  am  dying  with  hunger,"  Pecopin  re- 
plied. "  I  am  not  able  to  get  on  horseback." 

The  old  gentleman  took  a  bottle  from  his 
pocket  and  presented  it  to  Pecopin,  who  no 
sooner  swallowed  two  or  three  mouthfuls  than 
he  felt  invigorated,  and  cried — 

"  To  the  chase  with  all  my  heart.  But  shall  I 
really  see  Bauldour  to-morrow?" 

"  Before  the  sun  rises  you  shall  be  at  the  gates 
of  Falkenburg." 

"  Hollo,  gentlemen !  hollo ! "  the  old  man 
cried,  "  To  the  chase  !  " 

On  turning  round,  Pecopin  perceived  that  his 
companion  was  humpbacked ;  and  when  he 
walked,  he  discovered  that  he  was  club-footed. 

At  the  call  of  the  old  man  a  host  of  gentle- 
men, clothed  like  princes,  and  mounted  like 
kings,  came  from  a  thicket,  and  ranged  them- 
selves round  him.  He  seemed  to  be  their 


214  The  Rhine. 


master.  All  were  armed  with  knives  and  spears, 
the  old  man  alone  having  a  horn.  The  night 
was  dark ;  but  suddenly  two  hundred  servants 
appeared  carrying  torches. 

"  Ebbene"  said  the  master,  "ubisunt  los  per- 
ros  f  " 

This  mixture  of  Italian,  Latin,  and  Spanish 
was  not  at  all  agreeable  to  Pecopin. 

The  old  man  then  said  with  impatience — 

"The  dogs!  the  dogs!"  and  in  less  than  a 
minute  a  pack  came  howling  and  barking  to  the 
spot. 

Pecopin  thought  there  was  something  extra- 
ordinary in  all  that  he  saw,  and  was  beginning  to 
consider  whether  he  should  follow  in  the  chase, 
when  the  old  man  addressed  him — 

"  Well,  chevalier,  what  do  you  think  of  our 
dogs?" 

"  My  good  Sir,"  Pecopin  replied,  "  to  follow 
such  animals  we  must  have  most  wonderful 
horses." 

The  old  man  without  replying,  raised  the  horn 
to  his  mouth  and  blew  it ;  a  noise  was  heard 
among  the  trees,  and  two  magnificent  horses, 
black  as  jet,  appeared. 

"  Well,  seigneur,"  said  the  old  man,  smiling, 
"  which  of  the  two  do  you  prefer?  " 

Pecopin  did  not  reply,  but  leaped  upon  one 
of  them.  The  old  man  asked  him  if  he  was  well 


Legend  of  Pecopin.  21$ 

saddled ;  and,  on  being  answered  in  the  affirma- 
tive, he  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter,  jumped  like  a 
tiger  upon  the  other,  which  trembled  fearfully, 
and  began  to  blow  the  horn  so  violently,  that 
Pecopin,  deafened  with  the  noise,  believed  that 
this  singular  individual  had  thunder  in  his  chest. 

PART  IX. 

THE  DANGER  TO  WHICH  WE  EXPOSE  OUR- 
SELVES BY  GETTING  ON  A  HORSE  THAT  WE  DO 
NOT  KNOW. — At  the  sound  of  the  horn  a  thou- 
sand strange  lights  started  up  in  the  forest ; 
strange  shadows  were  seen  everywhere ;  and  the 
words,  "  To  the  chase,"  were  heard  mingling 
with  the  barking  of  the  dogs,  the  neighing  of 
horses,  and  the  shaking  of  the  trees.  Pecopin's 
horse,  accompanied  by  that  of  the  old  man, 
started  off  at  a  violent  gallop,  making  every  step 
resound  in  the  lover's  brain,  as  if  the  horse's 
hoofs  had  come  in  contact  with  his  skull.  It 
was  a  gallop,  rapid,  supernatural,  which  almost 
deprived  him  of  reason,  for  he  was  only  sensible 
to  the  frightful  noise  around — the  whistling  of 
the  wind,  the  rustling  of  leaves,  the  barking  and 
howling  of  dogs,  and  the  neighing  of  horses. 

Suddenly  all  was  silent,  save  the  sonnd  of 
the  old  man's  horn  in  the  distance.  Pecopin 
knew  not  where  he  was.  He  looked  round,  and 


216  The  Rhine. 


perceived  his  reflection  in  what  he  thought  was 
the  White  Lake,  then  in  the  Black  one ;  but  saw 
it  as  the  swallows  see  their  shadows  while  gliding 
over  the  surface  of  a  pond.  In  the  midst  of  this 
course  he  raised  his  hand  to  his  talisman,  and 
suddenly  he  was  enveloped  in  darkness,  while  his 
horse  began  to  gallop  with  renewed  fury.  At 
this  terrible  moment  Pecopin  commended  his 
soul  to  God,  and  his  heart  to  his  mistress.  He 
continued  for  some  time  thus,  flying,  as  it  were, 
through  the  air,  when  the  thought  struck  him 
that  death  was  preferable  to  such  torment.  He 
tried  to  throw  himself  from  his  horse,  but  he 
discovered  that  some  iron  hand  held  him  by  the 
feet. 

The  distant  cries,  the  barking  of  dogs,  the 
neighing  of  horses,  mingling  with  the  blasts  of 
the  old  man's  horn,  again  resonnded  frightfully 
in  his  ears.  The  poor  chevalier  closed  his  eyes 
and  resigned  himself  to  his  fate.  When  he 
opened  them,  the  heat  of  a  tropical  night  struck 
his  countenance !  the  roarings  of  tigers  and  lions 
reached  his  ear;  and  he  saw  huge  ruins  and 
strange  trees.  Pecopin  was  in  an  Indian  forest — 
he  again  shut  his  eyes. 

Suddenly  his  horse  stopped,  the  noise  ceased, 
and  all  was  quiet. 

Pecopin,  who  had  remained  for  some  time  with 
his  eyes  shut,  opened  them,  and  found  himself 


Legend  of  Pecopin.  217 

before  the  facade  of  a  sombre  and  colossal 
edifice. 

The  old  man's  horn  resounded  through  the 
building,  the  doors  of  the  castle  opened  vio- 
lently, as  if  by  a  blast  of  wind,  and  Pecopin,  on 
his  horse,  entered  a  magnificent  room,  splendidly 
lighted.  He  cast  his  eyes  towards  the  extremity 
of  the  hall,  and  saw  a  number  of  guests,  of 
strange  appearance,  seated  at  table.  No  one 
spoke ;  no  one  ate ;  nor  did  any  of  them  look  at 
him.  There  was  an  empty  seat  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  which  indicated  that  they  were  waiting 
their  superior's  arrival. 

Pecopin  discovered  among  this  motley  group 
the  giant  Nimrod ;  King  Mithrobusane ;  the 
tyrant  Machanidas ;  the  Roman  Consul,  ^Emilius 
Barbula  the  Second ;  Rollo,  King  of  the  sea ; 
Zuentibold,  the  unworthy  son  of  the  great  Ar- 
nolphe,  King  of  Lorraine ;  Athelstan,  King  of 
England ;  Aigrold,  King  of  Denmark.  By  the 
side  of  Nimrod,  Cyrus,  the  founder  of  the  Per- 
sian empire,  was  seated,  leaning  on  his  elbow. 

The  old  man's  horn  was  again  heard  ;  a  large 
door,  opposite  the  one  by  which  Pecopin  had  en- 
tered, opened,  and  innumerable  valets  appeared, 
carrying  an  immense  golden  plate,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  which  was  a  stag  with  sixteen  horns, 
roasted  and  smoking.  The  old  man  entered 

and     took   his   seat ;    and    after    observing    the 
10 


2i8  The  Rhine. 


grave  looks  of  his  guests,  burst  into  a  fit  of 
laughter,  saying — 

"  H ombres  y  mugeres,  or  ca  vosotros  belle  sig- 
nore  domini  et  domina,  amigos  mios,  comment  va 
la  besogne" 

"  You  come  very  late,"  said  one  of  the  guests. 

"  That  is  because  I  have  a  friend  that  is  fond 
of  hunting;  I  wished  to  show  him  one  of  our 
excursions." 

"  Yes ;  but  look,"  Nimrod  said,  pointing  to  a 
little  crevice  which  exposed  the  break  of  day. 

"  Well,  we  must  make  haste,"  the  old  man 
said,  making  a  sign  to  the  valets  to  approach  and 
deposit  their  load  upon  the  table.  Pecopin  at 
this  moment  drew  his  sword,  sunk  his  spurs  into 
the  sides  of  his  horse,  which  moved  forward,  and 
said  with  a  loud  voice  — 

"  Pardieu  !  whoever  ye  may  be — spectres,  de- 
mons, or  emperors — I  forbid  ye  to  move ;  or,  by 
all  that  is  holy,  you  shall  feel,  as  well  as  that  old 
man,  the  weight  of  a  living  cavalier's  sword  upon 
the  heads  of  phantoms.  I  am  in  the  cave  of 
shadows;  but  I  shall  do  things  real  and  terrible. 
Thou  hast  lied,  miserable  old  man.  Defend  thy- 
self; or,  by  the  mass,  I  will  cleave  thy  head, 
wert  thou  King  Pluto  in  person." 

"  What's  the  matter,  my  dear  Sir  ?  "  the  old 
man  replied,  smiling.  "You  are  going  to  sup 
with  us." 


Legend  of  Pecopin.  219 


The  grimace  which  accompanied  this  gracious 
invitation  exasperated  Pecopin,  who  cried — 

"  Defend  yourself,  old  villain  !  You  made  me 
a  promise,  and  you  shall  pay  dearly  for  breaking 
it." 

"  Ho,  ho,  my  worthy  friend  !  I  have  not  done 
so  ;  you  must  wait  a  little.'* 

"Thou  promisedst  to  take  me  to  Bauldour; 
thou  knowest  that  she  is  my  betrothed." 

"  Well,  since  you  will  have  it,  be  it  so.  Bad 
examples  are  shown  by  males  and  females  above 
to  those  below.  The  sun  and  moon  are  wedded, 
but  they  are  a  disconsolate  couple,  for  they  are 
never  together." 

"  A  truce  to  raillery ! "  Pecopin  cried,  burst- 
ing with  rage,  "  or  I  will  exterminate  thee  and 
thy  demons,  and  purge  thy  cavern." 

The  old  man  replied,  laughing,  "  Purge,  my 
friend.  Here  is  the  prescription — senna,  rhu- 
barb, and  Epsom  salts." 

Pecopin  in  fury  leveled  a  blow  at  the  old 
man's  head,  but  his  horse  drew  back,  trembling. 
At  this  moment  a  gleam  of  light  stole  through 
a  crevice,  the  cock  crowed,  and  all  disappeared. 
Pecopin,  on  his  horse  gliding  from  beneath  him, 
found  himself  standing,  sword  in  hand,  in  a 
ravine  near  an  old  castle.  Day  broke ;  he  lifted 
his  eyes,  and  leaped  with  joy.  It  was  the  castle 
of  Falkenburg.  He  sheathed  his  sword,  and 


220  The  Rhine. 


was  beginning  to  walk  cheerfully  towards  the 
manor,  when  he  heard  some  one  say : 

"  Well,  Chevalier  de  Sonneck,  have  I  kept  my 
word  ?  " 

Pecopin  turned  round,  and  saw  the  little 
hunchback  that  he  had  met  in  the  wood,  who 
in  irony  asked  him  if  he  knew  him.  Pecopin 
said  that  he  did,  and  thanked  him  for  thus  bring- 
ing him  to  his  Bauldour. 

"  Wait  a  little,"  the  old  man  said.  "  You  were 
in  too  great  a  hurry  in  accusing  me ;  you  are 
in  too  great  a  hurry  in  returning  me  thanks. 
Listen.  You  are  my  creditor ;  I  owe  thee  two 
things — the  hump  on  my  back  and  my  club- 
foot  ;  but  I  am  a  good  debtor.  I  found  out  thy 
inclinations,  and  I  thought  it  would  be  a  pity  to 
debar  such  a  good  hunter  as  thou  art  from  par- 
taking in  the  night  chase." 

Pecopin  involuntarily  shuddered,  and  the 
Devil  added  : 

"  If  thou  hadst  not  had  thy  talisman,  I  would 
have  taken  charge  of  thee  ;  but  I  am  as  well 
pleased  that  things  have  turned  out  as  they  have 
done." 

"Tell  me,  demon,"  Pecopin  said;  "  is  Baul- 
dour dead,  or  married,  or  has  she  taken  the 
veil?" 

"  No  ;  "  the  demon  replied,  with  a  sinister  grin. 

"  She  is  at  Falkenburg,  and  still  loves  me  ?  " 


Legend  of  Pecopin.  22 1 

"  Yes." 

"  In  that  case,"  Pecopin  said,  respiring  as  if  a 
load  had  been  taken  from  his  chest,  "whoever 
thou  art,  and  whatever  may  happen,  I  thank  thee." 

"Dost  thou?"  the  Devil  replied.  "Then,  if 
thou  art  satisfied,  so  am  I."  On  saying  these 
words,  he  disappeared. 

Pecopin  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  said  to 
himself,  smilingly: 

"  Bauldour  lives ;  she  is  free,  and  still  loves 
me.  What  have  I  to  fear?  When  I  met  the  de- 
mon yesterday  evening,  five  years  had  expired 
since  I  left  her,  and  it  is  now  only  a  day  more." 

He  approached  the  castle,  recognized  with  joy 
each  projection  of  the  bridge,  and  felt  happy. 
The  threshold  of  the  house  in  which  our  boyish 
have  been  spent,  like  the  countenance  of  an 
offectionate  mother,  smiles  upon  us,  when  re- 
turning after  a  years'  absence,  with  all  the  vigor 
of  manhood. 

As  he  was  crossing  the  bridge,  he  observed  a 
beautiful  oak,  whose  top  overlooked  the  parapet. 
"That  is  strange,"  he  said  to  himself;  "there 
was  no  tree  there."  Then  he  remembered  that, 
two  or  three  week  before  he  left,  Bauldour  and 
he  had  amused  themselves  by  throwing  acorns  at 
each  other,  and  that  at  this  spot  one  had  fallen 
into  the  ditch. 

"The  Devil!"  he  exclaimed;  "an  acorn  be- 


222  The  Rhine. 


come  a  tall  oak  in  five  years !  this  is  certainly  a 
fertile  soil  ! " 

Four  birds  were  perched  upon  this  tree,  trying 
which  could  make  the  most,  noise.  Pecopin 
looked  up,  and  saw  a  daw,  a  blackbird,  a  magpie, 
and  a  crow  ;  he  hurried  on — his  thoughts  were 
on  Bauldour. 

He  arrived  at  the  staircase,  and  was  ascending 
quickly,  when  he  heard  some  one  laughing  be- 
hind him,  but  on  turning  round,  could  see  no- 
thing. He  reached  the  door,  in  which  was  the 
key;  his  heart  beat  violently;  he  listened,  and 
the  sound  of  a  wheel  struck  his  ear.  Was  it 
that  of  Bauldour?  Pecopin,  trembling,  turned 
the  key,  opened  the  door,  entered,  and  beheld 
an  old  woman,  decrepid  and  worn  down  by  age, 
her  face  covered  with  a  thousand  wrinkles,  long 
grey  hair,  escaping  here  and  there  from  her  cap, 
her  eyebrows  white,  and  gums  toothless.  This 
venerable,  yet  frightful  object  was  seated  near 
the  window,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  wheel  at 
which  she  was  spinning,  with  the  thread  betwixt 
her  long  thin  fingers. 

The  old  lady  was  apparently  very  deaf,  for, 
notwithstanding  the  noise  that  Pecopin  made  in 
entering,  she  did  not  move.  Nevertheless,  the 
chevalier  took  off*  his  hat,  as  it  becomes  a  man 
before  a  person  of  advanced  age,  and,  going  near 
her,  said,  "  Madame,  where  is  Bauldour?" 


Legend  of  Pecopin.  22$ 

The  old  dame  lifted  her  eyes,  and  fixed  them 
on  Pecopin ;  the  thread  dropped  from  her  trem- 
bling hand ;  she  screamed,  and  said  with  a  feeble 
voice — 

"  Oh  Heaven  ! — Pecopin  ?  What  would  you  ? 
Masses  for  your  troubled  soul?  or  why  is  it  that, 
being  so  long  dead,  your  shadow  still  walks 
abroad  ?  " 

"  Pardieu !  my  good  lady,"  Pecopin  replied, 
laughing  and  speaking  very  loud,  so  that,  if 
Bauldour  was  in  the  next  room,  she  might  hear 
him ; — "  Pardieu  !  I  am  not  dead  !  It  is  not  my 
ghost  which  stands  before  you.  I  am  of  good 
solid  flesh  and  bone,  and  have  come  back,  not  to 
have  masses  said  for  my  soul,  but  for  a  kiss  from 
my  betrothed,  whom  I  love  more  than  ever." 

As  he  finished  the  last  words,  the  old  lady 
threw  herself  into  his  arms.  It  was  Bauldour! 
The  night-chase  with  the  Devil  had  lasted  a 
hundred  years ! 

Pecopin,  distracted,  left  the  apartment,  ran 
down  stairs,  crossed  the  court,  flew  to  the  moun- 
tain, and  took  refuge  in  the  forest  of  Sonneck. 
Like  a  madman,  he  wandered  about  the  woods 
all  day:  and  when  evening  came,  seeing  that  he 
was  approaching  the  turrets  of  his  own  castle,  he 
tore  off  the  rich  clothes  which  the  Devil  had 
given  him,  and  threw  them  into  the  torrent  of 
Sonneck.  Suddenly,  his  knees  trembled,  his 


224  The  Rhine. 


hands  shook,  and  to  prevent  himself  from  fall- 
ing, he  leaned  against  a  tree.  In  Pecopin's  excess 
of  grief,  he  had  unconsciously  seized  the  talis- 
man, and  thrown  it,  with  his  clothes,  into  the 
torrent.  The  words  of  the  Sultana's  slave 
proved  true.  In  one  minute  Pecopin  had  all 
the  infirmities  attendant  upon  extreme  old  age. 
At  that  moment,  he  heard  a  burst  of  laughter; 
he  looked  round,  but  could  see  no  one. 

Pecopin,  in  pain  and  dejection,  supporting 
himself  on  a  stick,  was  returning  to  his  castle, 
when  he  perceived  a  jackdaw,  a  blackbird,  a 
magpie,  and  a  crow,  seated  on  the  roof  of  the 
out-house.  He  remembered  the  words  of  the 
old  man  — "  For  the  young  the  blackbird 
whistles,  the  magpie  chatters,  and  the  crow 
croaks,  the  hens  cackle,  and  the  doves  coo ;  for 
the  old  man,  the  birds  speak."  He  listened  at- 
tentively, and  the  following  is  the  dialogue  he 
heard : — 

BLACKBIRD. — Enfin  mon  beau  chasseur,  te  voila  de  retour. 
JACKDAW. — Tel  qui  part  pour  un  an  croit  partir  pour  un  jour. 
CROW. — Tu  fis  la  chasse  a  1'aigle,  ou  milan,  ou  vautour. 
MAGPIE. — Mieux  eut  value  la  faire  au  doux  oiseau  d'amour ! 
HEN. — Pecopin  !  Pecopin  ! 
DOVE. — Bauldour!  Bauldour!  Bauldour ! 


Bingen. 


CHAPTER     XXII. 

BINGEN. 

Houses    at    Bingen.  —  Paradise    Plain. —  The    Klopp. —  Mdlle. 
Berlin.— The  Sage. 

BINGEN  is  an  exceedingly  pretty  place, 
having  at  once  the  sombre  look  of  an 
ancient  town,  and  the  cheering  aspect  of  a  new 
one.  From  the  days  of  Consul  Drusus  to  those 
of  the  Emperor  Charlemagne,  from  Charlemagne 
to  Archbishop  Willigis,  from  Willigis  to  the 
merchant  Montemagno,  and  from  Montemagno 
to  the  visionary  Holzhausen,  the  town  gradually 
increased  in  the  number  of  its  houses,  as  the 
dew  gathers  drop  by  drop  in  the  cup  of  a  lily. 
Excuse  this  comparison ;  for,  though  flowery,  it 
has  truth  to  back  it,  and  faithfully  illustrates  the 
mode  in  which  a  town  near  the  conflux  of  two 
rivers  is  constructed.  The  irregularity  of  the 
houses — in  fact  everything,  tends  to  make  Bingen 
a  kind  of  antithesis,  both  with  respect  to  build- 
ings and  the  scenery  which  surrounds  them. 
The  town,  bounded  on  the  left  by  the  Nahue, 
and  by  the  Rhine  on  the  right,  develops  itself  in 
a  triangular  form  near  a  Gothic  church,  which  is 
backed  by  a  Roman  citadel.  In  this  citadel, 

10* 


226  The  Rhine'. 


which  bears  the  date  of  the  first  century,  and  has 
long  been  the  haunt  of  bandits,  there  is  a  garden; 
and  in  the  church,  which  is  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  is  the  tomb  of  Barth61emy  de  Holz- 
hausen.  In  the  direction  of  Mayence,  the  famed 
Paradise  Plain  opens  upon  the  Ringau  ;  and  in 
that  of  Coblentz,  the  dark  mountains  of  Leyen 
seem  to  frown  on  the  surrounding  scenery.  Here 
Nature  smiles  like  a  lovely  woman  extended  un- 
adorned on  the  greensward;  there,  like  a  slum- 
bering giant,  she  excites  a  feeling  of  awe. 

The  more  we  examine  this  beautiful  place,  the 
more  the  antithesis  is  multiplied  under  our  looks 
and  thoughts.  It  assumes  a  thousand  different 
forms;  and  as  the  Nahue  flows  through  the 
arches  of  the  stone  bridge,  upon  the  parapet  of 
which  the  lion  of  Hesse  turns  its  back  to  the 
eagle  of  Prussia,  the  green  arm  of  the  Rhine 
sei/es  suddenly  the  fair  and  indolent  stream,  and 
plunges  it  into  the  Bingerloch. 

To  sit  down  towards  the  evening  on  the  sum- 
mit of  the  Klopp, — to  see  the  town  at  its  base, 
with  an  immense  horizon  on  all  sides,  the  moun- 
tains overshadowing  all — to  see  the  slated  roofs 
smoking,  the  shadows  lengthening,  and  the 
scenery  breathing  to  life  the  verses  of  Virgil — to 
respire  at  once  the  wind  which  rustles  the  leaves, 
the  breeze  of  the  flood,  and  the  gale  of  the 
mountain  —  is  an  exquisite  and  inexpressible 


The  Ktopp. 


pleasure,  full  of  secret  enjoyment,  which  is  veiled 
by  the  grandeur  of  the  spectacle,  by  the  intensity 
of  contemplation.  At  the  windows  of  huts, 
young  women,  their  eyes  fixed  upon  their  work, 
are  gaily  singing ;  among  the  weeds  that  grow 
round  the  ruins  birds  whistle  and  pair;  barks  are 
crossing  the  river,  and  the  sound  of  oars  splash- 
ing in  the  water,  and  unfurling  of  sails,  reaches 
our  ears.  The  washerwomen  of  the  Rhine  spread 
their  clothes  on  the  bushes;  and  those  of  the 
Nahue,  their  legs  and  feet  naked,  beat  their  linen 
upon  floating  rafts,  and  laugh  at  some  poor  artist 
as  he  sketches  Ehrenfels. 

The  sun  sets,  night  comes  on,  the  slated  roofs 
of  the  houses  appear  as  one,  the  mountains  con- 
gregate and  take  the  aspect  of  an  immense  dark 
body ;  and  the  washerwomen,  with  bundles  on 
their  heads,  return  cheerfully  to  their  cabins :  the 
noise  subsides,  the  voices  are  hushed ;  a  faint 
light,  resembling  the  reflections  of  the  other 
world  upon  the  countenance  of  a  dying  man,  is 
for  a  short  time  observable  on  the  Ehrenfels ; 
then  all  is  dark,  except  the  tower  of  Hatto, 
which,  though  scarcely  seen  in  the  day,  makes  its 
appearance  at  night,  amidst  a  light  smoke  and 
the  reverberation  of  the  forge. 

A  few  days  ago  I  was  seated  on  the  platform 
at  Klopp,  and  in  a  reverie  had  allowed  my 
thoughts  to  wander  at  freedom.  Suddenly,  a 


228  Tke  Rhine. 


small  skylight  window  under  my  feet  was  opened, 
and  I  perceived  a  young  girl  appear  at  the  win- 
dow, who  was  singing  to  a  slow  and  plaintive  air, 
in  a  clear,  rich  voice,  the  following  stanza : 

"  Plas  mi  cavalier  Frances 
£  la  dona  catalana 
E  1'onraz  del  ginoes 
E  la  court  de  castelana 
Lou  cantaz  proveacales 
E  la  danza  trevisana 
E  lou  corps  aragones 
La  mans  a  kara  d'angles 
E  lou  donzel  de  Toscana." 

I  immediately  recognized  the  joyful  verses  of 
Frederick  Barberousse.  It  would  be  impossible 
for  me  to  describe  the  effect  they  had  upon  me 
when  heard  in  this  ancient  ruin,  in  the  midst  of 
obscurity — that  song  of  the  emperors,  sung  by  a 
young  girl ;  these  Roman  verses,  accented  by  a 
German  tongue ;  that  gayety  of  by-gone  times 
changed  into  melancholy ;  that  ray  of  the  Cru- 
sades piercing  the  shadow  of  the  present,  and 
throwing  its  light  upon  me,  poor,  bewildered 
dreamer. 

Since  I  have  spoken  upon  the  music  which  I 
heard  upon  the  Rhine,  why  not  mention  that 
which  I  heard  when  at  Bacharach  ?  Several  stu- 
dents, seated  upon  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  sang  to 
German  words  that  admirable  air  in  "  Quas- 
imode,"  which  is  the  most  beautiful  and  most 


Curiosities  of  Bingen.  229 


original  in  Mademoiselle  Berlin's  opera.  The 
future,  doubt  it  not,  my  friend,  will  render  jus- 
tice to  that  remarkable  opera,  which  on  its  ap- 
pearance was  unfairly  attacked  and  unjustly  dealt 
with.  The  public,  too  often  duped  by  ungener- 
ous criticisms,  by  the  malice  of  rivalry,  with  re- 
spect to  works  of  genius,  will  think  for  itself,  and 
will  one  day  admire  that  soft  and  profound 
music,  so  pathetic  and  powerful,  at  moments 
melancholy,  yet  pleasing — music,  so  to  speak, 
where,  in  each  note,  is  mixed  that  which  is  most 
tender  and  most  grave — the  heart  of  a  lady  and 
the  mind  of  a  sage.  Germany  has  already  ren- 
dered her  justice, — France  will  soon  follow  her 
example. 

As  I  care  little  about  what  are  termed  local 
curiosities,  I  must  admit  that  I  did  not  see  the 
miraculous  horn,  nor  the  nuptial  bed,  nor  the 
iron  chair  of  Broemser.  To  make  amends,  I 
visited  the  square  dungeon  of  Rudesheim,  the 
Roman  caves,  and  saw  lanterns  of  the  thirteenth 
century  and  numerous  sepulchral  urns. 

In  the  room  where  I  was  accustomed  to  dine 
at  Bingen,  I  saw  two  individuals  seated  at  op- 
posite tables.  There  was  such  a  contrast,  both 
in  their  appearance  and  in  their  repast,  that  it 
could  not  fail  to  excite  attention.  The  one  was 
a  huge  Bavarian  major,  who  spoke  a  little 
French,  and  who  allowed  dish  after  dish  to  be 


230  The  Rhint. 


taken  away  without  scarcely  touching  them  ;  the 
other  was  a  poor  looking  devil,  seated  before  a 
plate  of  choucroute,  who,  after  having  his  meagre 
pittance,  finished  his  dinner  by  devouring  with 
his  eyes  the  loaded  plates  of  his  neighbor.  The 
words  of  Albancourt  struck  me  forcibly  when 
looking  at  that  living  parable  :— "  La  Providence 
met  voluntiers  V argent  d*un  cot 4  et  Vappetit  de 
rautre." 

The  poor  fellow  was  a  young  savant,  pale, 
grave,  and  melancholy.  It  was  said  that  he  was 
in  love  with  one  of  the  servants  of  the  auberge, 
which  is  rather  strange,  for  to  me  a  savant  in 
love  is  a  problem.  How  is  it  possible  that  the 
studies,  the  dull  experiments,  and  minute  ob- 
servations which  compose  the  life  of  a  sage,  can 
agree  with  the  hope,  disappointment,  jealousy, 
rage,  and  loss  of  time  which  attend  the  tender 
passion?  Imagine  how  Doctor  Huxham  could 
have  loved,  who,  in  his  excellent  treatise  "  De 
^Ere  et  Morbis  Epidemicis,"  has  told,  month  after 
month,  the  quantity  of  rain  that  fell  at  Ply- 
mouth during  the  period  of  twenty-two  years. 
Imagine  Romeo  looking  through  a  microscope, 
and  counting  the  seventeen  thousand  facettes  of 
the  eye  of  a  fly;  Don  Juan  with  an  apron  on, 
analyzing  the  paratar  trovinate  of  potash ;  and 
Othello,  in  a  stooping  posture,  looking  for  gail- 
lonelles  in  the  fossils  of  China. 


The  Sagt.  231 

However,  in  spite  of  all  laws,  this  poor  devil 
was  in  love.  At  times  he  spoke  French,  which 
was  far  superior  to  the  major's,  and  his  address 
was  more  gentlemanly — yet  he  had  not  a  stiver. 
Sometimes  my  young  savant  drank,  during  the 
hours  at  table  d'hote,  a  bottle  of  small  beer, 
while  his  eye  surveyed  in  envy  the  opening  and 
shutting  the  mouths  of  the  inmates  of  the  hotel 
Victoria.  The  society  here  was  rather  mixed, 
and  not  at  all  harmonious.  At  the  end  of  the 
table  was  an  old  English  dame,  and  by  her  side 
three  pretty  children:  she  was  apparently  a 
governess  or  an  aunt,  whose  consequential  airs 
raised  in  my  heart  a  feeling  of  sympathy  for  the 
pretty  little  ones.  The  major  was  seated  near 
her,  to  whom,  for  politeness,  he  addressed  his 
conversation,  at  one  time  describing  an  engage- 
ment, at  another  telling  her  he  was  going  to 
Baden,  because  everybody  went  there.  On  his 
right  hand  was  an  advocate ;  and  next  to  the 
advocate  was  an  old  man,  whose  thin  gray  hair 
and  reverential  mien  had  that  mild  appearance 
which  a  near  approach  to  the  grave  gives,  and 
which  cites  in  every  look  the  beautiful  verses 
of  Homer.  In  front  of  the  old  gentleman  was 
my  young  sage,  who  spoke  pompously  of  the 
"  harrangues  "  that  were  brought  from  the  sea. 
To  me  "  harens"  (herrings)  would  have  been  more 
likely  to  have  come  from  such  a  quarter. 


232  The  Rhine. 


One  day  I  invited  him  to  dine  with  me,  which 
invitation  was  cordially  accepted — the  more  so, 
perhaps,  because  the  poor  fellow  had  not  break- 
fasted. We  chatted  a  little,  took  a  walk,  and 
afterwards  visited  the  Island  of  Rats,  which 
pleased  my  companion  very  much ;  for  a  good 
dinner,  a  gratuitous  sail,  and  a  chit-chat  with  the 
worthy  blacksmiths,  were  things  which  were  not 
of  an  everyday  occurrence  with  him.  Such  were 
my  adventures  at  Bingen. 


Mayence 


CHAPTER     XXIII. 
MAYENCE. 

Cathedral. — Its  Interior. — Henry  Frauenlob,  the  Tasso  of  May- 
ence.— Market  Place. 

MAYENCE  and  Frankfort,  like  Versailles 
and  Paris,  may,  at  the  present  time,  be 
called  one  town.  In  the  middle  age  there  was  a 
distance  of  eight  leagues  between  them,  which 
was  then  considered  a  long  journey ;  now,  an 
hour  and  a  quarter  will  suffice  to  transport  you 
from  one  to  the  other.  The  buildings  of  Frank- 
fort and  Mayence,  like  those  of  Li&ge,  have  been 
devastated  by  modern  good  taste,  and  old  and 
venerable  edifices  are  rapidly  disappearing, 
giving  place  to  frightful  groups  of  white  houses. 
I  expected  to  see,  at  Mayence,  Martinsburg, 
which,  up  to  the  seventeenth  century,  was  the 
feudal  residence  of  the  ecclesiastical  electors ; 
but  the  French  made  an  hospital  of  it,  which 
was  afterwards  razed  to  the  ground  to  make 
room  for  the  Porte  Franc ;  the  merchant's  hotel, 
built  in  1317  by  the  famed  League,  and  which 
was  splendidly  decorated  with  the  statues  of 
seven  electors,  and  surmounted  by  two  colossal 


234  The  Rhine. 

_ 

figures,  bearing  the  crown  of  the  empire,  also 
shared  the  same  fate.  Mayence,  however, 
though  plunged  into  the  Renaissance,  possesses 
that  which  marks  its  antiquity — a  venerable 
cathedral,  which  was  commenced  in  978,  and 
finished  in  1009.  Part  of  this  suberb  structure 
was  burnt  in  1190,  and  since  that  period  has, 
from  century  to  century,  undergone  some 
change. 

I  explored  its  interior,  and  was  struck  with 
awe  on  beholding  innumerable  tombs,  bearing 
dates  as  far  back  as  the  eighteenth  century. 
Under  the  galleries  of  the  cloister  I  observed  an 
obscure  monument,  a  bas-relief  of  the  fourteenth 
century,  and  tried,  in  vain,  to  guess  the  enigma. 
On  one  side  are  two  men  in  chains,  wildness  in 
their  looks,  and  despair  in  their  attitudes ;  on  the 
other,  an  emperor,  accompanied  by  a  bishop,  and 
surrounded  by  a  number  of  people,  triumphing. 
Is  it  Barberousse ?  Is  it  Louis  of  Bavaria?  Does 
it  speak  of  the  revolt  of  1160,  or  of  the  war  be- 
tween Mayence  and  Frankfort  in  1332?  I  could 
not  tell,  and  therefore  passed  by. 

As  I  was  leaving  the  galleries,  I  discovered  in 
the  shade  a  sculptured  head,  half  protruding 
from  the  wall,  surmounted  by  a  crown  of  flower- 
work,  similar  to  that  worn  by  the  kings  of  the 
eleventh  century.  I  looked  at  it :  it  had  a  mild 
countenance ;  yet  it  possessed  something  of  se- 


Mayence.  23$ 


verity  in  it — a  face  imprinted  with  that  august 
beauty  which  the  workings  of  a  great  mind  give 
to  the  countenance  of  man.  The  hand  of  some 
peasant  had  chalked  the  name  "Frauenlob" 
above  it,  and  I  instantly  remembered  the  Tasso 
of  Mayence,  so  calumniated  during  his  life,  so 
venerated  after  his  death.  When  Henry  Frauen- 
lob died,  which  was  in  the  year  1318,  the  females 
who  had  insulted  him  in  life  carried  his  coffin  to 
the  tomb,  which  procession  is  chiseled  on  the 
tombstone  beneath.  I  again  looked  at  that  noble 
head.  The  sculptor  had  left  the  eyes  open  ;  and 
thus,  in  that  church  of  sepulchres — in  that  clois- 
ter of  the  dead — the  poet  alone  sees  ;  he  only  is 
represented  standing,  and  observing  all. 

The  market-place,  which  is  by  the  side  of  the 
cathedral,  has  rather  an  amusing  and  pleasing 
aspect.  In  the  middle  is  a  pretty  triangular 
fountain  of  the  German  Renaissance,  which,  be- 
sides having  sceptres,  nymphs,  angels,  dolphins, 
and  mermaids,  serves  as  a  pedestal  to  the  Virgin 
Mary.  Upon  one  of  the  faces  is  the  following 
pentameter: 

"Albertus  princeps  civibus  ipse  suis." 

This  fountain  was  erected  by  Albert  de  Braden- 
burg,  who  reigned  in  1540,  in  commemoration  of 
the  capture  of  Francis  the  First  by  Charles  the 
Fifth. 


236  77*6-  Rhine. 


Mayence,  white  though  it  be,  receives  not  the 
respect  of  a  mercantile  city.  The  river  here  is 
not  less  crowded  with  sails,  the  town  not  less  in- 
cumbered  with  bales,  nor  more  free  from  bustle, 
than  formerly.  People  walk,  speak,  push,  sell, 
buy,  sing,  and  cry ;  in  fact,  in  all  the  quarters  of 
the  town,  in  every  house,  life  seems  to  predom- 
inate. At  night  the  buzz  and  noise  cease,  and 
nothing  is  heard  at  Mayence  but  the  murmurings 
of  the  Rhine,  and  the  everlasting  noise  of  seven- 
teen water  mills,  which  are  fixed  to  the  piles  of 
the  bridge  of  Charlemagne. 


Frankfort.  237 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

FRANKFORT     ON     THE      MAINE. 

Jews  at  Frankfort.  —  Slaughter-House.  —  Roemer.  —  Inhabitants 
of  the  Steeple. 

I  ARRIVED  at  Frankfort  on  a  Saturday; 
and  after  walking  for  some  time  in  search 
of  the  beauties  of  my  old  favorite  town,  I  came 
to  a  singular  street,  with  two  long  ranges  of 
high,  sombre,  and  sinister-looking  houses,  cling- 
ing to  each  other,  as  it  were,  with  terror.  Not  a 
door  was  open,  not  a  window  that  was  not  se- 
cured with  iron  gratings.  There  was  no  singing, 
no  merry  voices ;  no — a  dismal  silence  reigned 
over  all.  One  or  two  men  passed,  who  looked  at 
me  with  an  air  of  suspicion  and  discontent,  and 
through  the  bars  of  iron  of  the  third-floor  win- 
dows I  observed  several  females,  whose  counte- 
nances were  of  a  brown  color,  and  who  looked 
with  stealth,  to  see  who  was  passing.  I  was  in 
the  street  of  the  Jews ;  it  was  their  Sabbath. 

At  Frankfort  there  are  still  Jews  and  Chris- 
tians— true  Christians  who  hate  the  Jews,  and 
Jews  who  hate  the  Christians. 

Perhaps  in  no  town  in  the  world  are  there  so 


238  The  Rhine. 


many  statues  and  figures  about  the  streets  as 
at  Frankfort.  Whichever  way  we  turn,  statues 
of  all  epochs,  of  all  styles,  and  of  all  sexes,  are 
sure  to  meet  the  eye ;  horned  satyrs,  nymphs, 
dwarfs,  giants,  sphinxes,  dragons,  devils :  in  fact, 
an  unfortunate  world  of  supernatural  beings  is  to 
be  seen  here. 

One  of  the  curiosities  of  Frankfort  is  the 
Slaughter-house.  It  is  impossible  to  see  older 
and  blacker  houses  decorated  with  more  splen- 
did legs  of  mutton  and  loins  of  beef.  Glut- 
tonous and  jovial-looking  figures  are  curiously 
sculptured  upon  the  facades,  and  the  openings 
of  the '  ground-floors  seem  like  huge  mouths, 
ready  to  devour  innumerable  cattle,  either  living 
or  dead.  The  blood-bedaubed  butcher  chats 
freely  with  the  rosy-cheeked  bouchfres  under 
garlands  of  gigots,  and  before  a  red  stream,  on 
which  two  fountains  are  playing,  as  it  runs  smok- 
ing through  the  middle  of  the  street.  When  I 
was  there,  frightful  cries  was  heard  in  all  direc- 
tions :  it  was  a  massacre  of  sucking-pigs  that  was 
taking  place.  Servants,  with  baskets  on  their 
arms,  were  laughing  amidst  the  general  uproar, 
and  casting  amorous  looks  towards  some  stal- 
wart youths,  with  knives  in  their  hands,  who 
were  ready  to  obey  the  demands  of  their  cus- 
tomers;  here,  some  bargaining;  there,  others 
quarreling.  A  butcher  passed  carrying  a  suck- 


Frankfort.  239 


ing-pig  by  the  hind  legs,  which  I  would  have 
purchased  had  I  known  what  to  do  with  it. 
The  poor  little  creature  squeaked  not ;  it  was 
ignorant  of  its  impending  fate,  and  knew  not 
what  was  about  to  take  place.  A  pretty  little 
girl,  about  four  years  of  age,  was  looking  at  it 
with  compassion ;  and  seemed  to  beseech  me 
with  her  soft  eyes  -to  purchase  the  little  thing 
and  save  it  from  immediate  death.  I  did  not  do 
what  that  charming  eye  told  me  ;  I  disobeyed 
her  demand,  so  sweetly  expressed ;  but  I  re- 
proached myself  afterwards  for  not  gratifying  the 
wishes  of  that  innocent  child. 

After  leaving  the  Slaughter-house,  we  enter 
a  large  square,  worthy  of  Flanders,  and  which 
excites  the  curiosity  of  all  travelers.  It  com- 
prises all  the  styles  of  architecture  of  the  Re- 
naissance, and  is  ornamented  according  to  the 
taste  of  that  epoch,  Near  the  middle  of  the 
square  are  two  fountains — the  one  of  the  Re- 
naissance, and  the  other  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, upon  the  tops  of  which  are  the  statues  of 
Minerva  and  Judith,  the  Homeric  and  Biblical 
viragos  ;  the  former  bearing  the  head  of  Medusa, 
the  latter  that  of  Holofernes. 

Opposite  this  fountain  is  the  Roemer,  where 
Emperors  were  proclaimed.  I  entered,  and 
wandered  along  a  large  hall  with  a  long  stair- 
case,  then  amongst  innumerable  corridors.  After 


240  The  Rhine. 


visiting  the  elector's  hall,  I  came  to  the  col- 
legiate church  of  Frankfort,  which  is  dedicated 
to  St.  Barthelemy.  The  view  here  was  charm- 
ing. Over  my  head  was  a  lovely  sun  ;  at  my 
feet,  the  town  of  Frankfort ;  to  my  left,  the 
Roemer;  and  to  my  right,  the  black  and  narrow 
street  of  the  Jews.  Whilst  buried  in  a  profound 
reverie,  the  clouds  gathered  above  me,  and, 
chased  by  the  wind,  rolled  about  the  heavens, 
covering  and  uncovering  at  each  instant  shreds 
of  azure,  while  heavy  drops  of  rain  began  to  fall 
upon  the  earth,  and  lightning  to  flash  from  the 
heavens.  I  thought  I  was  alone  upon  the  tower, 
and  would  have  remained  there  all  day,  but  sud- 
denly a  rustling  noise  startled  me,  and  on  look- 
ing round  I  perceived  a  young  girl,  about  four- 
teen years  of  age,  looking  at  me  from  a  small 
window.  I  advanced  a  few  steps,  and  after  pass- 
ing the  angle  of  the  Pfarrthurm,  I  found  myself 
amongst  the  inhabitants  of  the  steeple — a  little 
world,  smiling  and  happy.  A  young  girl  was 
knitting;  an  old  woman,  probably  her  mother, 
spinning;  doves  were  cooing  on  the  top  of  the 
steeple ;  and  an  hospitable  monkey,  on  perceiv- 
ing me,  extended  its  little  paw  from  the  bottom 
of  its  cage.  Add  to  this  the  peace  of  elevated 
places,  where  nothing  is  heard  but  the  murmuring 
of  the  winds,  and  from  whence  we  see  the  beauty 
of  the  surrounding  country.  In  a  part  of  the 


Frankfort.  241 


tower  the  old  woman  had  made  a  fire,  on  which 
she  was  cooking  a  humble  repast.  How  this 
little  family  came  there,  and  for  what  end,  I  do 
not  know;  but  they  interested  me  much.  This 
proud  city,  once  engaged  in  so  many  wars, — 
this  city,  which  dethroned  so  many  Caesars, — 
this  city,  whose  walls  were  like  an  armor,  is  at 
present  crowned  by  the  hearth  of  a  poor  old 
woman. 

ii 


242  The  Rhine. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

THE  RHINE. 
Rafts  on  the  Rhine. — Secret  Souvenirs. — Oberwerth. 

THE  Rhine  assumes  all  aspects — at  one 
time  broad,  then  narrow.  It  is  trans- 
parent, tranquil,  and  rapid ;  it  is  a  torrent  at 
Schaffouse,  a  gulf  at  Laufen,  a  river  at  Sickingen, 
a  flood  at  Mayence,  a  lake  at  St.  Goar,  and  a 
marsh  at  Leyde. 

The  Rhine  is  calm,  at  least  towards  evening, 
and  appears  as  if  sleeping — a  phenomenon  more 
apparent  than  real,  and  which  is  visible  upon  all 
great  rivers.  The  part  of  the  Rhine  the  most 
celebrated  and  admired,  the  most  curious  for 
the  historian,  and  the  loveliest  for  the  poet,  is 
that  which  traverses,  from  Bingen  to  Kcenigs- 
winter,  that  dark  chaos  of  volcanic  mounds 
which  the  Romans  termed  the  Alpes  dcs  Cattes. 

From  Mayence  to  Bingen,  as  from  Kcenigs- 
winter  to  Cologne,  there  are  seven  leagues  of 
rich  smiling  plains,  with  handsome  villages,  on 
the  river's  brink;  but  the  great  encaissement  of 
the  Rhine  begins  at  Bingen  by  the  Rupertsberg 


The  Rhine.  243 


and  Niederwald,  and  terminates  at  Kcenigswinter 
at  the  base  of  the  Seven  Mountains. 

At  each  turning  of  the  river,  a  group  of 
houses  —  a  town  or  borough  —  develops  itself, 
with  a  huge  tower  in  ruins  peering  over  it. 
These  hamlets  present  an  imposing  aspect ; 
young  women  are  seen  busily  washing  and  sing- 
ing, with  children  playing  round  them ;  the 
basket-maker  at  work  on  the  door-step  of  his 
hut ;  the  fisherman  mending  his  net  in  his  boat ; 
— all  perform  what  God  has  ordered — man  as 
well  as  the  orb  of  day. 

At  the  time  of  the  Romans  and  of  the  Bar- 
barians the  Rhine  was  termed  the  "street"  of 
soldiers  ;  in  the  middle  ages,  when  the  river  was 
bordered  with  ecclesiastical  states,  and,  from  its 
source  to  its  mouth,  was  under  the  control  of 
the  Abbot  of  St.  Gall,  the  Bishops  of  Constance, 
Bale,  Spire,  Worms,  the  Archbishop-Electors  of 
Mayence,  Treves,  and  Cologne,  the  Rhine  was 
called  "the  street  of  the  priests;"  at  present  it 
is  that  of  the  merchants. 

The  traveler  who  ascends  the  river  sees  it,  so 
to  speak,  coming  to  him,  and  then  the  sight  is 
full  of  charms.  At  each  instant  he  meets  some- 
thing which  passes  him  ;  at  one  time,  a  vessel 
crowded  with  peasants,  especially  if  it  be  Sun- 
day ;  at  another,  a  steamboat ;  then  a  long,  two- 
masted  vessel  laden  with  merchandise,  its  pilot 


244  The  Rhine. 


attentive  and  serious,  its  sailors  busy,  with 
women  seated  near  the  door  of  the  cabin  ;  here, 
a  heavy-looking  boat,  dragging  two  or  three 
after  it ;  there,  a  little  horse,  drawing  a  huge 
bark,  as  an  ant  drags  a  dead  beetle.  Suddenly 
there  is  a  winding  in  the  river ;  and  formerly,  on 
turning,  an  immense  raft,  a  floating  house,  pre- 
sented itself,  the  oars  splash  on  both  sides.  On 
the  ponderous  machine  were  cattle  of  all  kinds, 
some  bleating,  and  others  bellowing,  when  they 
perceived  the  heifers  peaceably  grazing  on  the 
banks.  The  master  came  and  went,  looked  at 
this,  then  at  that,  while  the  sailors  busily  per- 
formed their  respective  duties.  A  whole  village 
seemed  to  live  on  this  float — on  this  prodigious 
construction  of  fir. 

It  is,  perhaps,  difficult  to  imagine  such  an 
island  of  wood  coming  and  going  from  Namedy 
to  Dordrecht,  along  the  windings  and  turnings, 
the  falls  and  serpentine  meanderings  of  the 
Rhine.  Wrecks,  it  is  true,  frequently  take  place, 
which  gave  rise  to  the  saying,  "  that  a  float  mer- 
chant ought  to  have  three  capitals — the  first 
upon  the  Rhine,  the  second  on  land,  and  the 
third  in  his  pocket."  The  conducting  of  each 
of  these  enormous  constructions  was  left  entirely 
to  the  charge  of  one  man.  At  the  end  of  the 
last  century,  the  great  maitre  flotteur  of  Rudes- 
heim  was  called  "  Old  Jung."  He  died: 


The  Rhine.  245 


since  that  time  these  great   floats  have   disap- 
peared. 

At  present,  twenty-five  steamers  are  engaged 
on  the  Rhine,  nineteen  of  which  belong  to  the 
Cologne  Steam  Company,  and  are  constantly 
plying  from  Strasburg  to  Dusseldorf;  they  are 
known  by  their  white  and  black  funnels.  The 
remaining  six  belong  to  the  Dusseldorf  Com- 
pany, which  have  tri-colored  funnels,  and  ply 
from  Mayence  to  Rotterdam.  The  ancient 
mode  of  navigating  the  Rhine,  which  was  by 
vessels  with  sails,  contrasts  strangely  with  the 
present.  The  steamboats,  with  life  in  their  ap- 
pearance, rapid,  comfortable,  and  painted  with 
the  colors  of  all  nations,  have  for  invocation  the 
names  of  princes  and  cities :  Ludwig  II.,  Gross, 
Herzog  von  Hessen,  Konigin,  Victoria,  Herzog 
von  Nassau,  Prinzessin  Mariann,  Gross  Herzog 
von  Baden,  Stadt  Manheim,  Stadt  Coblentz. 
The  sailing  vessels  glide  slowly  along,  and  have 
at  their  prows  grave  and  reverential  names,  such 
as  Pius,  Columbus,  Amor  Sancta  Maria,  Gratia 
Dei.  The  steamboat  is  varnished  and  gold 
lettered ;  the  sailing  vessel  is  bedaubed  with 
pitch.  The  one  pursues  its  way  beseeching  of 
men  ;  the  other  continues  its  course  in  prayer. 
The  one  depends  upon  man  ;  the  other  places  its 
reliance  in  God — food,  and  that  which  is  the  gift 
of  Heaven,  being  its  cargo. 


246  The  Rhine. 


From  Cologne  to  Mayence  there  are  forty-nine 
islands,  covered  with  thick  verdure,  which  hide 
the  smoking  roofs,  and  shade  the  barks  in  their 
charming  havens,  each  bearing  some  secret  sou- 
venir. Graupenwerth,  where  the  Hollanders 
constructed  a  fort,  and  called  it  "  the  Priest's 
Bonnet ;  "  Pfaffenmuth,  a  fort  which  the  Span- 
iards took,  and  gave  it  the  name  of  "  Isabella ;  " 
Graswerth,  the  island  of  grass,  where  Jean  Phil- 
ippe de  Reichenberg  wrote  his  "  Antiquitates 
Saynenses ;  Niederwerth,  formerly  so  rich  with 
the  gifts  of  the  Margrave  Archbishop,  Jean  II. ; 
Urmitzer  Insel,  which  was  well  known  to  Caesar  ; 
and  Nonnenswerth,  the  spot  frequented  by 
Roland. 

The  souvenirs  of  the  banks  of  the  Rhine  seem 
to  have  responded  to  those  of  the  islands,  and 
whatever  took  place  on  one  side  was  sure  to  have 
given  rise  to  something  else  on  the  opposite  one. 
Permit  me  to  run  over  a  few  of  them.  The  coffin 
of  Saint  Nizza,  granddaughter  of  Louis-le-De- 
bonnaire,  is  at  Cologne ;  the  tomb  of  Saint  Ida, 
cousin  of  Charles  Martel,  is  at  Cologne.  Saint 
Genevieve  lived  in  the  woods  at  Fraunkirch,  near 
a  mineral  fountain,  which  is  still  seen,  adjoining 
a  chapel  that  was  built  to  her  memory.  It  was 
Schinderhannes  who,  with  a  pistol  in  his  hand, 
forced  a  band  of  Jews  to  take  off  their  shoes; 
then,  after  mixing  them,  ordered  each  person  to 


Souvenirs.  247 


take  the  first  pair  he  could  find  and  be  off,  for  he 
would  put  the  last  to  instant  death.  The  terri- 
fied Jews  did  so,  and  fled  precipitately,  some 
stumbling,  others  limping  and  hobbling,  making 
a  strange,  clattering  noise,  which  excited  the 
laughter  of  Jean  1'Ecorcheur. 

When  the  traveler  has  passed  Coblentz,  and 
left  behind  him  the  graceful  island  of  Oberwerth, 
the  mouth  of  the  Lahn  strikes  his  attention. 
The  sight  here  is  admirable.  The  two  crumbling 
towers  of  Johanniskirch,  which  vaguely  resemble 
Jumeiges,  rise,  as  it  were,  from  the  water's  brink. 
To  the  right,  above  the  borough  of  Cappellan, 
the  magnificent  fortress  of  Stolzenfels  stands, 
upon  the  brow  of  a  huge  rock;  and  to  the  left, 
at  the  bottom  of  the  horizon,  the  clouds  and  the 
setting  sun  mingle  with  the  sombre  ruins  of 
Lahneck,  which  abound  with  enigmas  for  the  his- 
torian, and  darkness  for  the  antiquary.  On  each 
side  of  the  Lahn  is  a  pretty  town,  Niederlahn- 
stein  and  Oberlahnstein,  which  seem  smiling  at 
each  other.  A  few  stone-throws  from  the  oriental 
gate  of  Oberlahnstein,  the  trees  of  an  orchard 
disclose,  and  at  the  same  time  hide,  a  small 
chapel  of  the  fourteenth  century,  which  is  sur- 
mounted by  a  mean-looking  steeple.  The  depo- 
sition of  Wencesles  took  place  here. 

In  front  of  this  chapel,  upon  the  opposite 
bank,  is  ancient  Kcenigsstuhl,  which,  not  more 


248  The  Rhine. 


than  half  a  century  ago,  was  the  seat  of  royalty, 
and  where  the  emperors  were  elected  by  the 
seven  electors  of  Germany.  At  present,  four 
stones  mark  the  place  where  it  formerly  stood, 
After  leaving  this  place,  the  traveler  proceeds  to- 
wards Braubach ;  passes  Boppart,  Welmich,  Saint 
Goar,  Oberwesel ;  and  suddenly  comes  to  an  im- 
mense rock,  surmounted  by  an  enormous  tower 
on  the  right  bank  of  the  river.  At  the  base  of 
the  rock  is  a  pretty  little  town  with  a  Roman 
church  in  the  center;  and  opposite  in  the  middle 
of  the  Rhine  is  a  strange,  oblong  edifice,  whose 
back  and  front  resemble  the  prow  and  poop  of  a 
vessel,  and  whose  large  and  low  windows  are  like 
hatches  and  port-holes. 

The  tower  is  the  Gutenfels ;  this  town  is  Caub; 
this  stone  ship — eternally  on  the  Rhine,  and 
always  at  anchor — is  the  Palace,  or  Pfalz.  To 
enter  this  symbolic  residence,  which  is  built  upon 
a  bank  of  marble,  called  "  the  Rock  of  the  Pala- 
tine Counts,"  we  must  ascend  a  ladder  that  rests 
upon  a  drawbridge,  a  portion  of  which  is  still  to 
be  seen. 

From  Taunus  to  the  Seven  Mountains  there 
are  fourteen  castles  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
river,  and  fifteen  on  the  left,  making  in  all  twen- 
ty-nine, which  bear  the  souvenirs  of  volcanoes, 
the  traces  of  war,  and  the  devastations  of  time. 
Four  of  these  castles  were  built  in  the  eleventh 


Ancient  Castles.  249 

century — Ehrenfels,  by  the  Archbishop  of  Sieg- 
fried ;  Stahleck,  by  the  Counts  Palatine ;  Sayn, 
by  Frederick,  first  Count  of  Sayn,  and  vanquisher 
of  the  Moors  of  Spain ;  and  the  others  at  a  later 
period. 

This  long  and  double  row  of  venerable  edifices, 
at  once  poetic  and  military,  which  bear  upon 
their  front  all  the  epochs  of  the  Rhine,  every 
one  having  its  sieges  and  its  legends,  begins  at 
Bingen,  by  the  Ehrenfels  on  the  right,  and  by 
the  Rat  Tower  on  the  left,  and  finishes  at 
Kcenigswinter,  by  the  Rolandseck  on  the  left, 
and  the  Drachenfels  on  the  right. 

The  number  which  I  have  given  only  includes 
those  castles  that  are  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine, 
and  which  every  traveler  will  see  in  passing ;  but 
should  he  explore  the  valleys  and  ascend  the 
mountains,  he  will  meet  a  ruin  at  every  step ; 
and  if  he  ascend  the  Seven  Mountains,  he  will 
find  an  abbey,  Schomburg,  and  six  castles — the 
Drachenfels,  Wolkenberg,  Lowenberg,  Nonnes- 
tromberg,  and  the  GElberg,  the  last  of  which 
was  built  by  Valentinian,  in  the  year  368. 

In  the  plain  near  Mayence  is  Frauenstein, 
which  was  built  in  the  twelfth  century,  Scarfen- 
stein  and  Greifenklau ;  and  on  the  Cologne  side 
is  the  admirable  castle  of  Godesberg.- 

These  ancient  castles  which  border  the  Rhine, 

these  colossal  bounds,  built  by  Ftodalitt,  fill  the 
ii* 


The  Rhine. 


country  with  reveries  and  pleasant  associations. 
They  have  been  mute  witnesses  of  bygone  ages 
— prominent  features  in  great  actions ;  and  their 
walls  have  echoed  the  cries  of  war  and  the  mur- 
murings  of  peace.  They  stand  there  like  eternal 
monuments  of  the  dark  dramas  which,  since  the 
tenth  century,  have  been  played  on  the  Rhine. 
They  have  witnessed,  so  to  speak,  monks  of  all 
orders,  men  of  all  ranks ;  and  there  is  not  an 
historical  fact  in  the  lives  of  those  men  who 
took  a  prominent  part  on  the  Rhine  that  is  not 
designed  on  their  venerable  walls.  They  have 
listened  to  the  voice  of  Petrarch :  they  saw,  in 
1415,  the  eastern  bishops,  proud  and  haughty, 
going  to  the  assembly  of  divines  at  Constance, 
to  try  Jean  Huss;  in  1441,  going  to  the  council 
of  Bale,  to  depose  Eugene  IV.;  and,  in  1519, 
to  the  diet  of  Worms,  to  interrogate  Luther: 
they  witnessed,  floating  on  the  Rhine,  the  body 
of  Saint  Werner,  who  fell  a  martyr  to  the  Jews 
in  1287.  In  fact,  all  the  great  events,  from  the 
ninth  to  the  nineteenth  century,  that  transpired 
on  the  banks  of  the  flood  have,  as  it  were,  come 
under  their  notice.  They  are  mute  recorders  of 
the  thing  that  were — of  Pepin,  of  Charlemagne, 
of  Charles  the  Fifth,  and  of  Napoleon.  All  the 
great  events  which  time  after  time,  shook  and 
frightened  Europe,  have,  like  the  lightning's 
flash,  lighted  up  these  old  walls.  At  present  it 


Ancient  Castles. 


is  the  moon  and  the  sun  that  shed  their  light 
upon  these  ancient  edifices,  famed  in  story  and 
gnawed  by  time,  whose  walls  are  falling,  stone 
by  stone,  into  the  Rhine,  and  whose  dates  are 
fast  dwindling  into  oblivion. 

O,  noble  towers  !  O,  poor  paralyzed  giants  ! 
A  steamboat  filled  with  merchants  and  with 
peasants,  when  passing,  hurls  its  smoke  in  thy 
faces. 


INDEX. 


INDEX. 


PAGE 

Abailard, 29 

Abbey  of  Notre  Dame  de  1'Epine,  ...        23 

Abbey  of  Saint  Thomas, 119 

Actius, 30 

Agrippa,  Founder  of  Cologne,  .         .         .        .98 

Agrippina, 106 

Aix-la-Chapelle,  Napoleon  I.  at  .  .  .84 
First  Bishop  of,  .  .  .  81 
Relics  at,  ...  69,  79 
Charlemagne  born  at,  .  69 
Chapel  at,  .  .  .  .70 
Legend  of  the  Wolf  at,  .  70 
Tomb  of  Charlemagne  at,  -77 
Hotel-de-Ville  at,  .  .  86 
Alexander  I.  at  the  Tomb  of  Charlemagne,  .  84 

Almanza,  Battle  of, 104 

Alains,  The, 30 

Amadis,     ........         29 

Andelot, 29 

Andernach,  Town  of, 118 

Anjou,  Duke  of, 22 


256  Index. 


PAGE 
Antoine  Berdolet,    .        .        .        .        .        .        81 

Antoinette,  Marie, 20 

Apollinaire,  Saint, 128 

Archbishop  Hatto,  Legend  of,  .  .  .  .184 
Arcis-sur-Aube,  Battle  of,  ....  65 
Ardennes,  The  Boar  of,  .  .  .  .44 

Forest  of, 57 

Arm,  The,  of  Charlemagne,        .        .        .        .78 

Attigny,  Village  of, 30 

Aulus-Gellius, 36 

Austria,  Elizabeth  of, 42 


B. 


Bacharach,  Town  of, 154 

Banks  of  the  Meuse, 51 

Barbers'  Village,  Legend  «f,  149 

Barberousse,  Frederick,  ....  78,  82 

Barthelemy  de  Holzhausen,  Tomb  of,         .        .  226 
Battle  of  Montmirail,      .....  6 

Almanza, 104 

Rocray, 48 

Tolbiac,        .        .        .        .        .        .131 

Arcis-sur-Aube,       .        .        .        .        59 

Bauldour,  Legend  of  Pecopin  and,    .        .        .195 

Bazard,  Roche  a, 52 

Bell  of  Velmich,  Legend  of,  .        .        .135 

Berdolet,  Antoine, 81 

Bernard,  Saint, 29 


Index.  257 


PAGE 

Berwick,  Marshal, 104 

Bingen,  Town  of,         .         .         .         .         .         .225 

Bossuet,  Bishop  of  Meaux,      ....  9 

Bouchardon,         .......     29 

Bourg,  Castle  of, 29 

Buonaparte,  Napoleon.     See  Napoleon  I. 

Boar  of  Ardennes,    ......         44 

Bourgoyne,  Dukes  of, 29 

Brisquet,  The  Court  Fool,       .         .         .         .         17 

Brutus, 37 

Braine-sur-Vesle,  Town  of,     .        .        .        .        41 
Bussee,  Jean, 43 


C. 


Caesar,  Julius,  ....  •         •         33 

Cardinal  Richelieu,     ...          ...     43 

Cardinal  Richelieu.     See  Richelieu. 

Castle  of  Cobons, 29 

Bourg, 29 

Humes,         ......     29 

Nuilly  Cotton,          ....         29 

Saint  Broing,       .         .        .        .         .29 

Chagney, 29 

Hellebarde, 41 

Castles  of  the  Rhine, 246 

Castle  of  "  The  Cat," 145 

"  The  Mouse,"          ....       145 
Rheinfels,    .         .        .        .        .        .151 


258  Index. 


PAGE 

Castle  of  Schoenberg,          .        .        .        .        .152 
Furstemberg,    .        .         .        .  155 

Heimberg, 155 

Goutenfels, 155 

Cathedral  of  Meaux, 7 

Mayence,    .....       234 

Cologne, 88 

Cat,  The  Castle  of  the, 145 

Catherine  de  Medicis,  .....  104 
Chagney,  Castle  of,  .....  29 

Chair,  The,  of  Charlemagne,  .  .  .  .81 
Chalons,  Church  at,  .  .  .  .  .  21 
Champagne,  Province  of,  .  .  .  .  .29 
Chapel  at  Aix-la-Chapelle,  ....  70 

Chapel  of  Saint  Clement, 183 

Saint  Genevieve,     ....       246 
Charlemagne  Born  at  Aix-la-Chapelle,      .         .     69 

Tomb  of, 77 

Arm  of,  ....     78 

Skull  of, 78 

Heart  of,        .         .        .        .         .79 

Crown  of, 80 

Chair  of,        .         .         .         .         .81 
Sarcophagus  of,         .         .         .         8  r 

Charles  the  Simple, 30 

Charles  I., 106 

Charles  II., 104 

Charles  V., 5 

Charles  IX., 42 


Index. 


PAGE 

Charles  IX.  (Sweden),          ...         .         .         .43 

Charles  X., 21 

Chateau,  Thierry, 9 

Chateauneuf,  Laubespine  de,  .         .         .105 

Chatillon,  Seigneur,    ......     29 

Childebert, 29 

Church  of  Saint  Werner, 156 

Saint  Martin  at  Cologne,       .         .       100 

Church  at  Andernach,          .         .         .         .118,122 

Chalons,  .         .         .         .         .         21 

City  of  Mayence, 233 

Aix-la-Chapelle,          ....         69 

Liege, 51 

Huy, 57 

Dinant, 58 

Treves, 128 

Claye, 3 

Clermont,  Village  of, 28 

Clodion, .         .         -57 

Clovis, 29,  33 

Cobons,  Castle  of,        ......     29 

Coffin  of  Saint  Nizza, 246 

Cohorn, 55 

Colbert, 29' 

Cologne,  Hotel-de-Ville, 95 

Cathedral  of, 88 

Count  Thibaut, 16 

de  Fontana,  ......       104 

de  Mirabeau, 106 


260  Index. 


PAGE 

Count  Falkcnstein, 136 

Corneille,  Pierre, 43 

Crescentius, 127 

Crequi,  Marshal  de,     .         .         .         .         .         .183 

Cromwell,  Oliver, 106 

Crown  of  Charlemagne,     ....  80 


D. 


Dammartin,  Tower  of, 2,  3 

Dante, 37 

Dauphin,  The, 20 

Description  of  the  Rhine, 242 

of  the  Chapel  at  Aix-la-Chapelle,       76 

of  Liege, 60 

Devil's  Ladder,  The 158 

Diane  de  Poitiers, 104 

Diderot, 29 

Dinant, •     52 

City  of, 58 

Douchery, 44 

Due,  Philippe,          ....  .104 

Duez,  Town  of, 88 

Duke  de  Sully, 43 

of  Osunna, 43 

of  Anjou, 22 

Dukes  of  Bourgoyne,         ...  .29 


Index.  26 1 

PAGE 
E. 

Edict  of  Nantes, 104 

Effigy  of  Philippe-le-Bel,  ....  9 

Egmont,  Tower  of, 49 

Elizabeth,  Madame,  .....  20 
Queen,  .  .  .  .  -  .  .23 

of  Austria, 42 

Emperor  Nicephore, 69 

Ferdinand  I., 82 

Enghien,  Duke  d', 105 

Epernay,  Town  of, n,  12,  16 

Churches  at,         .        .        .          16,17,29 
Erard  de  la  Mark,    ......        64 

Ethe,  M.,  20 


F. 


Fabricius,  Jean,        .        .        .        .        .        .        43 

Falkenburg,  Ruins  of,  ...  173,  176,  181 

Legend  of  the,  .  .  .  .195 
Falkenstein,  Ruins  of, 137 

Count,  .....  136 

Frauenlob,  Henry, 235 

Favorinus, 35 

Ferdinand  I.,  Emperor,  .  .  .  .82 

Ferte-sous-Jouarre, 3,  n 

Ferte-Vidame, 3 


262  Index. 


PAGE 

Flodoard, 29 

Fontana,  Count  de, 104 

Forest  of  the  Ardennes,  .  .  .  .  .  57 
Francis  II.  at  Tomb  of  Charlemagne,  .  .  84 
Frankfort-on-the-Main,  .  .  .  .  .237 
Frastrada,  Wife  of  Charlemagne,  .  .  .70 

Frederick  Barberousse, 78 

Furstemberg,  Castle  of, 155 


G. 


Galloway,  Lord, 104 

Gargantua,           .......  4 

Germanicus, 107 

Germans,  The, 3C 

Gerson,  Charlier  de, 29 

Girardon, 29 

Givet,        .         .  "      .         .         .         .        .         -  44,  45 

Town  of, 32 

Gondi,  Paul  de, 29 

Gontran,  King, 29 

Goutenfels,  Ruins  of, i55 

Gordiens,  The, 29 

Gregory,  Saint, 69 

Grotto  of  Hansur-Lesse, 52 

Gustavus  Adolphus,         .....  43 

Gutierez,  Jose,     ...••••  4$ 


Index.  263 

PAGE 
H. 

Hanault,  President,      ......  108 

Hansur-Lesse,  Grotto  of,         .         .         .         .         52 

Hatto,  Archbishop,  Legend  of,    .         .         .         .184 

Heart  of  Charlemagne, 79 

Heimberg,  Ruins  of,    ...  .    155,  173 

Heloise,    ........         29 

Hellebarde,  Castle  of, 41 

Henriette,  Widow  of  Charles  I.,     .         .         94,  107 
Henry  III.,  .......      22,  104 

Henry  IV.,        ....       29,  43,  94,  104,  107 

Henry  Frauenlob, 235 

Hinemar,  ...;....         29 
Hoche,  Tomb  of,          ...  .         .  120 

Homer  and  the  Rhine, 132 

Horace,         ........     36 

House  "  Ibach,"  The,        .....       103 

Hotel-de-Ville  at  Aix-la-Chapelle,     ...     86 
at  Cologne,       ....         95 

Huguenots,  The, 22 

Humes,  Castle  of, 29 

Heins,  The, .     30 

Huy,  City  of, -57 

I. 

«  Ibach,"  The  House, 103 

Invasion  of  France,  1814,         .        .         .        .      6,  7 
Islands  of  the  Rhine,  ...  .246 


264  Index. 


PAGE 
J. 

Jabach.     See  "  Ibach." 

James  II., 104 

Jamyn,      .                  29 

Jean  Bussee, •  43 

Jean  Fabricius,         ...  43 

Jean  de  Wert, no 

Jeanne,  Queen,        ......  9 

Joinville,  Town  of,  .        .        •        .        .29 

Jose  Gutierez, 4# 

Joseph  II., 5 

Josephine  at  the  Tomb  of  Charlemagne,        .  84 

Jovinus,  Tomb  of, 30 

Judas, 37 

Jules,  Mount, 30 

Julius  Caesar, 33 

K. 

Klopp,  Castle  of, ip3 

Ruins  of, 193 

Kcenigstuhl,  The, 247 


Ladder,  The  Devil's, i58 

La  Felic, 33 

La  Fontaine 9--  ^ 


PAGE 

La  Sabliere,  Madame, 28 

Laubespine  de  Chateauneuf,   ....       105 

Laugres, 29 

Lautare,    ........         29 

Legend  of  Archbishop  Hatto,     .         .         .         .184 

of  the  Bell  of  Velmich,  .  .  .  135 
of  the  Barber's  Village,  .  .  .149 
of  the  Falkenburg,  ....  195 

.,  of  "The  Mouse," 140 

of  Pecopin  and  Bauldour,         .         .       195 

of  the  Wolf, 70 

Legends  of  the  Rhine, 129 

Legion,  The  Twenty-second,       .         .         .         .127 

Leon  III., 70 

Lesse,  River, 52 

Leutersdorf,  Village  of, 118 

Liege,  City  of, 51 

Description  of, 60 

Ligny  1'Abbaye, 29 

Lovsberg,  130 

Larch,  Sibo  de, 155 

Lorch,  Village,         .         .         .        .        .        .       158 

Lorraine,  Henry  de,    ......     29 

Louis  Philippe,         .         .         .         .         .         .         21 

Louis  IX.,    ........     30 

Louis  XIII.,      .         .         .     43,  94,  104,  106,  107,  108 

Louis  XIV.,  The  Age  of, 9 

Louis  XIV., 30,  105,  108 

Louis  XV., 21 

12 


266  Index. 


PAGE 

Louis  XVI., 20,  24,  106 

Lurley,  Rock  of,          ......  147 


M. 


Mabillon, 29 

Madame  Elizabeth,      ....  .20 

La  Sabliere, 28 

de  Maintenon, 104 

Royal,        .         .         .  .         .         20 

Maintenon,  Madame  de,      .....  104 

March,  William  de  la, 44 

Maria  de  Medicis.     See  Medicis. 

Marie  de  Medicis,     .....         94,  106 

Marie  Antoinette, 20 

Mark,  Erard  de  la, 64 

Market  Place  of  Mayence,  fJ  236 

Marne,  the  River, 6,  28 

Marshal  Turenne,        .         .         .         .         .         -43 
Berwick,    .....         .       104 

de  Crequi, 183 

Martin  IV., 29 

Saint, 128 

Materne,  Saint,         .         .         .         .         .         .128 

Mausethurm,  Tower  of,  .         .        .        .186 

Mayence,  City  of, 233 

Cathedral  of, 234 

Market  Place  of,              .        .        .      236 
Meaux,  Town  of, i,  2,  3,  7 


Index.  267 


PAGE 
Meaux,  Cathedral  of,  .         .         .         .         .         .7 

Theater  at,  .         .         .         .         .         .  9 

Medicis,  Marie  de,  .         .        94,  106,  107,  108 

Catherine  de, 104 

Merovee,       ........     30 

Menehould.     See  Saint  Menehould. 

Meuse,  The  River, 28 

Separates  Givet, 45 

Valley  of  the, 49 

Banks  of  the,       .         .         .         .         .         51 

Junction  with  the  Sombre,     .         .         -55 

Mezieres,  Village  of,  .         .         41 

Mezieres, 44 

Mirabeau,  Count  de, 106 

Moguntiacum,      .         .         .         .         .         .         .127 

Montmartre,     .......  2 

Montmirail,  Battle  of, 6 

Montmirail, n,  14 

Montmorency,  Town  of, i 

Henry  of,          ....       105 
Montmort,  Village  of,         .         .         .         .         .14 

Castle  of, 14 

Mount  Jules, 30 

Mountains,  The  Seven, 97 

Mouzon,  Town  of, 30 

Museum,  Waldraf,  .  no 


268  Index. 


PAGE 

N. 

Namur,  .  48,  54,  55 

Nanteuil-le-Haudoin, i 

Nantes,  Edict  of, 104 

Napoleon  I.,      .  .     5,  33,  105 

at  Aix-la-Chapelle,   .         .         .         .     £2 
Napoleon  Bonaparte.     See  Napoleon  I. 

Neuilly  Cotton,  Castle  of, 29 

Nicephore,  Emperor, 69 

Notre  Dame  de  1'Epine,  Abbey  of,     .         .         .     23 
Noyon, 34 


O. 


Oberwesel,  Town  of, 151 

Oliver  Cromwell, 106 

Orange,  Prince  of, 29 

Osunna,  Duke  of, 43 


Pacuvius, 35 

Pailly, 29 

Papirien  Masson,         ......     43 

Paraclet,  Village  of,        .        .        .        .        .        29 

Paradise  Plain,  The, 226 

Pascalus,  an  Actor, 9 


Index.  269 


PAGE 

Pecopin  and  Bauldour,  Legend  of,     .         .         .195 

Pepin,       .                                                             .  37 

Philip  III.,  .                                                           .  43 

Philippe-Auguste, 29 

Philippe-le-Bel,  Effigy  of, 9 

Philippe  Due, 104 

Pierre  Corneille, 43 

Pierre  Strozzi,          .        .        .                 .         .  16 

Plain,  The  Paradise, 226 

Plato, 35 

Pliny,   ...                 .....  35 

Poets  of  Tartary, 35 

Poitiers,  Diane  de,                                          .  104 

President  Hanault, 108 

Prince  of  Orange, 29 

Provium,  Village  of,        .....  29 

Province  of  Champagne, 29 


Q. 

Queen  Elizabeth, 23 

Queen  Jeanne,     .....  •      9 


R. 


Racine, 9 

Rat  Tower,  The, 187 

See  Hatto. 


2/O  Index. 


PAGE 
Relics  at  Aix-la-Chapelle,  .         .         .  69,  79 

Revolution  of  1830, 6 

Rheims,  City  of, 21,  29 

Rheinfels,  Castle  of, 151 

Rhine,  Legends  of, 129 

Reflections  on,      .         .         .         .         .124 

Description  of  the, 242 

Islands  of  the, 246 

Castles  of  the, 248 

Richelieu,  Cardinal,          .         .         .43,  94,  106,  108 

Rigomagum, 128 

River  Lesse,     .         .         .         .         .         .         .        52 

Meuse,  The, 28 

Marne,  The,    .         .         .         •.         .         .     6,  28 
Rhine,  The.     See  Rhine. 

Vesdre,  The, 66 

Ruvigny  (Lord  Galloway),         .  .         .  104 

Roche  a  Bazard,       .         .         .         .         .         .         52 

Rock  of  Lurley,  ....  .  147 

Rocoles,    ........        35 

Rocroy,  Battle  of,         ...  .     48,  104 

Rome  and  the  Rhine,       .         .         .         .        .127 

Royale,  Madame,         ...  .     20 

Rubens,  Birth  of, 94 

Ruins  of  Falkenburg,          .         .         .     173,  176,  181 

Falkenstein, 137 

Furstemburg,       .        .         .  .  155 

Goutenfels, 155 

Heimberg,    ....  155,  173 


Index.  271 


PAGE 

Ruins  of  the  Klopp,    .         .         .  .         .193 

"  The  Mouse,"          .         .         .        139,142 
Rheinfels,     .         .         .         .         .         .  151 

Schcenberg,       .         .         .         .  152 

Sonnech,       .....  155 

Sonneck,  .         .         .         .         .  173 

Russians,  The, 30 

Saint  Apollinaire, 128 

Bernard,     .......     29 

Broing,  Castle  of,  ....         29 

Dezier, 29 

Genevieve,  Chapel  of,   .         .         .         .246 
Gregory,    .......     69 

Hubert,  Abbot  of, 30 

Ida,  Tomb  of, 246 

Jean-des-Vignes,    .....         33 

Louis.     See  Louis  IX. 

Menehould,  Town  of,     .         .  19,  24,  25,  27,  30 

Martin, 128 

Materne, 128 

Nizza,  Coffin  of, 246 

Simon, 3,  9 

Thomas,  Abbey  of,    .         .         .         .         .119 

San  son,  Village  of,         .         .         .         .         57 

Sarcophagus  of  Charlemagne,  .         .81 

Schleis,  Kotten, no 

Sedan,  Town  of,  .         .         .  42,  43,  44 

Seven  Mountains,  The,     .  97 

Sezenne, .     29 


272  Index. 


PAGE 

Shakspeare  and  the  Rhine,      .         .        .         .       132 

Shcenberg,  Ruins  of, 152 

Sibo  de  Larch, 155 

Simbourg,  Town  of, 68 

Skull  of  Charlemagne, 78 

Soissons,  Town  of,  .         .  i,  32,  33,  37 

Sombre,  Junction  with  the  Meuse,  .         .         .        55 
Sonnech,  Castle  of,      ......  155 

Sonneck,  Ruins  of,  .         .         .        .        .         .173 

Spain,  Philip  III.,  King  of,          ....     43 

Spire,  Vindelin  de,  ......       130 

Saint  Clement,  Chapel  of,  .         .         .         .        .183 

Denis,  Town  of,     .         .         .         .         .  i 

Goar,  Town  of,  .         .         .         .         .  144,  145 

Martin,  Church  of,  at  Cologne,     .         .       100 

Werner,  Church  of, 156 

Strozzi,  Pierre, 16 

Suessonium,          .......     37 

Sueves,  The, 30 

Sully,  Duke  de, 43 

Sweden,  Gustavus  Adolphus,  King  of,  .         .        43 
Charles  IX.,  King  of,  .         .         .         -43 


Tolbiac,  Battle  of, 131 

Taunus,     .         .  .....       128 

Tartary,  Ports  of 35 


Index. 


PAGE 

The  Dauphin,     .......       20 

"  The  Mouse,"  Ruins  of,       ....  139,  142 

Theater  at  Meaux 9 

Paris, 9 

Theodoric, .         30 

Thibaut,  Count, 16 

Thibaut  IV., 28 

Thou,  President  of, 105 

Three  Wise  Men  of  the  East,  Town  of, .         .         93 

Tomb  of  Barthelemy  de  Holzhausen,         .         .  226 

Charlemagne,   .         .         .         .         .         77 

Napoleon  I  at,  .     84 

Josephine  at,      .         .         84 

Alexander  I.,  at,   .         .     84 

Frederick  William  I.  at,   84 

Hoche, 120 

Jovinus, 30 

Marie  de  Medicis,         .         .         .         .94 

Saint  Ida,  .         .         .         .         .         .       246 

The  Three  Wise  Men  of  the  East,      .     93 

Tongres, 128 

Touchard,     ........       3 

Tower  of  Dammartin, 2,  3 

Egmont, 49 

Mausethurm, 186 

The  Rat, 187 

See  Hatto. 

Town  of  Andefnach, 118 

Bacharach,    .        .        .        .        .        .154 


Index. 


PAGE 

Town  of  Bingen, 225 

Braint  Sur-Vesle,         .         .         .         .41 

Duez, 88 

Epernay,        .         .         .         .         .         .11 

Givet,         .         .         .  .         .         32 

Meaux, i 

Montmorency,  ....         .  i 

Mouzon,        .         .         .    •     .         .         .30 

Oberwesel, 151 

St.  Denis, i 

Sainte  Menehould,    ....         19 

Sedan, 42, 43 

Simbourg, 68 

Soissons,        ......     37 

St.  Goar, 144,  145 

Varennes, 32 

Verviers, 68 

Treves,  City  of, 128 

Troyes, 30 

Turenne,  Marshal 43 

Twenty-Second  Legion, 127 


Valentin, 29 

Valentinian,      .         .         .         .         .         .         .118 

Valley  of  the  Meuse, 49 

Valley  of  Wisperthall, 155 


Index.  27$ 


PAGE 

Vandals,  The, 30 

Varennes, 19 

Varennes,  Town  of,     .        «        .         .        .         .     32 

Vauban, 55 

Vaux  Champs,     .         .         .         .         .         .  17 

Velmich,  Village  of,        .....       134 

Verviers,  Town  of, 68 

Vesdre,  The  River,  ......         66 

Village  of  Larch, 168 

Mezieres, 41 

Montmarte, 14 

Sanson,  ......         57 

Velmich,    .         .         .         .         .         .134 

Weiss  Thurm,         .         .         .         .121 

Villers-Oottcrets, i,  32 

Vindelin  de  Spire,    ......       130 

Virgil  and  the  Rhine,  .....   132 


W. 


Waldraf  Museum, no 

Weiss  Thurm,  Village  of,   .         .         .         .         .120 

Wert,  Jean  de, no 

William  de  la  March, 44 

Wisperthall,  Valley  of, 155 

Wolf  Legend  of  the, 70 


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